Wolf's Fight
by Linda Lupos
Summary: Werewolves, mad houseelves, Umbridge and a mysterious Veil being Remus or Sirius during Order of the Phoenix has never been easy...
1. Of old relatives and new Ordermembers

_Author:_ Linda Lupos.  
_Rating: _tricky. Being Dutch, I'm not familiar with the American rating system. I'd say PG-13, like the rest of my ficts, but there is some bad language and possibly some disturbing images that could get the rating up… Let's say it's PG-13 for now.  
_Disclaimers:_ JK Rowling's, once again. Everything you recognise from the books is hers, the rest is mine (unless I state otherwise).  
_Pairings:_ not as far as I know.  
_Spoilers:_ all five books, especially the fifth one!  
_Author's note: _and she's back! The fourth instalment already. I just can't leave that werewolf alone, it seems! Well, it's not that you mind anyway…  
Seeing as this is the fourth story in what has become a series about Remus Lupin (and, from the third one, about Sirius Black as well), I highly recommend that you read the first three. There will be recurring characters, in-jokes and references to the other stories which you simply won't get if you haven't read them! Not to worry though: I've been told the ficts were rather good. You might even enjoy yourself!  
On a less sarcastic note: I said above that I couldn't really decide on the rating, because of the bad language and the disturbing images that are going to be in this fict. With 'bad language' I mean everything from 'bloody hell' to the F-word, and mostly out of Sirius' mouth. Mind, I will of course censor it (him?) from time to time, but things are getting grittier and darker, and that includes the language. Sirius won't be a cheery chap, and his way of speaking will reflect that. My apologies if you're offended. It wasn't my intention, I was merely trying to keep somebody in character…  
As for 'disturbing images', I do not mean sex scenes in any way, but rather people getting hurt and dying in the most horrible way. Harry has only heard or read about the murders, but the members of the Order of the Phoenix will be direct witnesses – and that includes Remus. Once again; I won't go into gruesome detail, but it will be there. Not for shock-value or to upset or offend people, but because I want to keep my stories realistic. If that means adding a few gallons of blood, so be it…  
Second to last thing: I trust that you are all aware that last June, Warner Brothers released something they called the 'Prisoner of Azkaban'-movie. I won't go into a detailed description of my sentiments towards said movie; let's just say that I found it rather disappointing. I bet you will be pleased to hear that it has not changed my way of seeing the characters, so rest assured; Sirius is still taller than Snape and he does not have any tattoos, nor does Remus have a moustache. However, there were some things I liked, so I hope you'll forgive me if I suddenly mention that the werewolf has hands instead of paws. I might even write the walking stick in! (Although I didn't like it in the movie, I thought the idea rather interesting, and it goes brilliantly with my story that Remus was bitten in his leg!) Lastly: I expect you all to start groaning when you read this, but the two-week posting is back too. And no, I'm not going to change that! I like the two-week deadline, I've got used to it. And, amazing though it may sound, my life does not revolve around writing fanficts. I also have a study to attend to, and last year I sometimes even missed a deadline because of essays I had to finish or tests I needed to learn for. I can't post chapters that are long enough once a week, I simply don't have the time! Complain all you like, I won't change my mind.  
Now. After possibly the longest introduction I've written so far, it is time. Ladies and the occasional gentleman, I proudly present my newest fict!  
  
**Wolf's Fight.**  
_The sequel to 'Wanderings of the Wolf'._  
  
**July 1995.**  
_"You and Tonks are related?"  
"Oh, yeah, her mother Andromeda was my favourite cousin."_  
  
Derbyshire, England.  
Early rays of the sun shone on lush green hills. It had rained that night, and morning-mist still hung in the valleys but disappeared as soon as the first sunlight hit it. Birds sung their song, ready for a new summer day, and squirrels ran from tree to tree to collect nuts.  
Everything was quiet around the small cottage. It was the embodiment of peace and solitude: the flowers in the garden were opening their buds to the sunlight, ivy vines grew against the wall. A few raindrops dripped from the handle of the well in the garden into the bucket under it, which was filled with crystal-clear water. Water also dripped from the shining wet tiles on the roof. Has somebody walked past on this early hour, he would've thought that the occupants of the house were still asleep.  
Then again, somebody walking past would only be able to see in the living room, and not in the kitchen.  
"Padfoot, go get the mail."  
"Woof," was Sirius' answer. He was sitting at the kitchen table, and he made no effort to get up or answer to Remus' request whatsoever. Remus, busying himself with breakfast, rolled his eyes.  
"And what's that in English?" he wanted to know.  
"Go get it yourself," Sirius said, spreading a tick layer of butter on his toast. "Or ask Monster to do it. Really Moony, the way you ask it – you make it sound as if I'm some kind of _dog_."  
"Ha, ha," replied Remus sarcastically. He took out his wand and flicked it. "_Accio_ mail!"  
There was a flutter from the hallway and a soft thudding against the kitchen door. Then the door swung open and a newspaper and two letters zoomed into the kitchen and onto the table.  
"See, this is why I need a wand," said Sirius. He took one of the letters. "Oh look, the _Daily Dumbledore_."  
"This afternoon, Padfoot," Remus shushed. "What does he write?"  
Sirius' nickname, the _Daily Dumbledore_, wasn't far off. Dumbledore had made a habit of sending them letters daily, with reports and updates on Voldemort and the Order of the Phoenix. Judging by the general tone of those letters, they were copied and send to every member of the Order, almost like a newspaper. Hence Sirius naming it the _Daily Dumbledore_. However, the Headmaster always added a personal note or message to the letters, and after a while those messages had become pretty much the only thing they were really interested in.  
Sirius quickly scanned the letter. "Nothing of real importance, I think. Harry has arrived safely at Privet Drive. Arabella's keeping an eye on him. The Order is now in full operation, to put it that way; everybody who was once in it, is back, and there're even several new members. Furthermore…" Sirius paraphrased the letter, "Voldemort is making plans – for world domination probably, but it doesn't say that – but our spies are onto it, blabla. _'PS: Sirius, I've arranged for you to meet Ollivander this afternoon, for a wand. Three o'clock, Charing Cross Road, the bookstore next to the Leaky Cauldron. He will meet you there. It's not safe for you to go into Diagon Alley so he has agreed to take several wands with him and meet you in the Muggle world instead._"  
"Well, that's good news," said Remus.  
"Yeah. After this afternoon, I'll be able to get a drink without getting up from my chair."  
"Besides that, obviously. But three o'clock – we're meeting Kingsley at four. If you don't take too long picking a wand, we'd be able to do it."  
"'kay."  
"But then we'd better get going soon, it's a long way to London."  
"Not the way we're going." Sirius winked, his face already shining with glee. Remus groaned.  
"I'd been trying to repress that."  
"Now Moony, there's nothing wrong with Buckbeak. Really." And Sirius pulled his friend out of the kitchen, only stopping in the hall to pick up their coats, and out of the door.  
  
"He doesn't seem too eager to fly," Remus commented, more nervous than he wanted to admit.  
"Nonsense, he's fine." Sirius was readjusting the blanket-turned-makeshift-saddle on Buckbeak's back and made sure that the rope around the animal's neck was secure. "You're just thinking that because you're nervous to fly, and you want to take me out of this."  
_Sirius knows me too well_, Remus thought. He took out his wand. "Let's at least put a Concealment charm on him."  
"But we already got a Disillusionment charm on him," Sirius said.  
"Really?" Remus squinted his eyes. "I can't see it."  
"Of course you can't, you're not a Muggle, the charm doesn't work on wizards."  
"Then how am I supposed to know whether it works or not?"  
"Walk up to a random Muggle and ask whether they can see the big half-bird-half-horse behind you?" Sirius jokingly suggested. "Of course, they'd think you're completely off your rocker, but at least then you know the charm works…"  
Remus rolled his eyes. "'I´ll just perform it again." He tapped the Hippogriff with his wand. The animal seemed to blur for a moment, as if it was underwater and the water had been touched. The effect lasted for only a second or so, then everything was normal again.  
"Great," said Sirius. "Let's go. Need a hand to get on Buckbeak?"  
"Euh, no, I think I'll manage."  
Sirius shrugged and climbed effortlessly onto the Hippogriff. Practice had taught him what the easiest way to sit was, and he now rode Buckbeak almost as comfortably as if he was sitting on a chair.  
Remus wasn't so lucky. First of all there was the fact that he didn't really like Hippogriffs. Then there was the fact that Hippogriffs didn't really like him either. Buckbeak had learned by now that Remus wasn't as dangerous as he smelled, but that didn't keep him from nervously tossing his head and scraping his talons over the ground. And Remus didn't really like flying either. It was alright when it was on a broomstick – they usually didn't go that fast, and since he was the one flying it he could decide how fast and high he was flying – or how slow and low. It was a different matter with Hippogriffs – or with motorbikes with insane teenage Siriusses on them. Actually, anything with Sirius on it and the ability to fly made Remus nervous.  
"You coming?" Sirius asked. He was patting Buckbeak's neck to try and make him less nervous.  
"Yes, I am." Remus came to stand next to Buckbeak's flank. He'd never really realised how high a horse was. "How exactly do I get on this?"  
Buckbeak glared.  
"Uh, on this – this fine animal," Remus corrected himself.  
"Easy," said Sirius. "Take my hand." Remus did so, and his friend pulled him on the Hippogriff's back. After a bit of fumbling around, trying what the best way to sit was and nearly falling off, Remus sat relatively comfortable. As comfortable as it gets on a Hippogriff that doesn't seem to be able to stand still anyway.  
Ready?" Sirius asked. Remus didn't answer, but clamped his arms around his friend.  
"If I fall off and die, you get all my stuff," he said earnestly.  
"Thanks. I'll take that as a 'yes, I'm ready'," said Sirius. "And I think you'd be safer if I could at least, you know, breathe a little. Please."  
"Oh. Sorry." Remus released his grip a little.  
"Excellent. There we go." Sirius nudged Buckbeak with his knees. Remus already squeezed his eyes shut, but the Hippogriff merely trotted leisurely towards the road.  
"What's he doing?" Remus asked.  
"Walking towards the runway," Sirius explained. "Or do you want to take off vertically?"  
"Err, no, thanks."  
"Thought as much. Now," he continued in a much less serious tone, "Padfoot and Buckbeak Airways welcome you on this flight to London. Before we take off, some safety instructions –"  
"Merlin, safety instructions," Remus muttered desperately, shutting his eyes again, holding on to Sirius as if for dear life. "Padfoot, I don't think I can do this."  
"Please keep your hands and feet on board," Sirius continued cheerfully, "and try and sit as still as possible. Do not upset your pilot or the vessel, since that tends to end in a dive, a looping, or both. Sorry Moony."  
Buckbeak stepped onto the road.  
"In the unlikely event of an emergency, scream. Real loud. It probably won't do any real good, but it might give you some mental comfort. We're afraid we don't have any oxygen masks or life-jackets on board, but that saves me time to explain how they work. We also can't offer you any snacks or drinks, nor any magazines. For God's sake, please don't try to squeeze your pilot to death, Moony – "  
Remus released his grip, which he had tightened again, a little.  
"And don't pull out any hairs of feathers from the vessel either. Yes, that's you Buckbeak. Doing so might result in a death-drop or a revenge attack when you least expect it."  
"Can we go now?" Remus asked. He'd never have guessed he'd ask it.  
"I thought you'd never ask!" Sirius said. "No seatbelts, no smoking, here we go. Enjoy your flight. Don't scream in my ear, please." He poked Buckbeak's flanks again. "Lift off."  
Buckbeak reacted at once. He jumped forward – Remus nearly fell off – and started to run at a break-neck pace. Sirius had squinted his eyes to tiny slits against the wind, his hair waving behind him. Remus was holding on tight to him, his eyes shut tightly.  
"C'mon, Buckbeak, go," Sirius muttered. The Hippogriff spread his wings. He seemed to do a jump in the air – or maybe it only seemed so because the road went uphill – Remus felt his stomach sink – and they were off.  
This is, Remus thought, probably one of the most uncomfortable things I've ever done. Buckbeak hadn't quite reached enough height to glide, and he was beating his wings to go higher, making the humans on his back go up and down. It was even stranger for Remus, who still had his eyes closed and who could only hear the rush of the wind around them and feel the feathers on Buckbeak's wings hit his legs.  
After a minute or so, the wing-beating stopped, and Sirius poked him with his elbow.  
"Open your eyes, Moony," he said. Remus did so – and his eyes widened with what he saw.  
England was spread out beneath him; summer-green patches with grass, yellow patches with corn. Groups of dark-green trees seemed sprinkled over the country by a giant hand. Ponds and lakes gleamed in the sunlight, and clouds made large patches of shadow on the land. It was like hanging above a giant model, and he had the odd feeling that he only had to stretch out his hand to touch it, to pick up a tiny house.  
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sirius asked.  
"This is totally different than your motorbike," Remus said. He couldn't keep his eyes off the ground.  
"Of course it is," said Sirius. "It doesn't go half as fast as my motorbike."  
"Good thing too," Remus muttered. "That thing scared the hell out of me."  
It took them slightly over an hour before they reached the suburbs of London. Buckbeak descended a bit, and Remus took a good hold of Sirius again. They flew over Wembley Stadion, and Remus could already see the light of the sun being reflected off the Thames. They followed the railroad tracks ("look, it's Kings Cross from above!"), towards the West End of London, where Charing Cross Road was.  
"Where d'you want to land?" Sirius asked.  
"Somewhere where there's not a lot of people around," Remus replied, scanning the city under him for such a spot. "You sure they won't see us?"  
"As long as we're on Buckbeak, we should be protected by that Disillusionment charm."  
"Maybe there," Remus pointed to a group of trees. Sirius looked.  
"Moony," he said, "that's Leicester Square. Landing there on a Hippogriff is too weird, even for London. But we can land over there." Before Remus had time to see where Sirius was pointing, Sirius had nudged Buckbeak with his knees, and the animal flew down.  
Buckbeak wasn't the most graceful flyer around, and his descent was more falling down and barely keeping from crashing. Remus had the feeling that his body had arrived on the ground before his stomach had.  
Sirius helped him off the Hippogriff. "I'll change into Padfoot, then," he said, and immediately did so.  
"Right, I'll take care of Buckbeak then…" said Remus, still feeling slightly sick. The huge black dog barked, which Remus took as an agreement.  
The feeling of sitting in a rollercoaster left after a few minutes. Remus took the rope around Buckbeak's neck, then headed for Charing Cross Road, Padfoot in tow.  
It was obvious that this was the theatre district of London. Even though it was barely afternoon, the streets were filled with people. It was perfect weather, and Remus had to be careful not to make anybody run into Buckbeak. There were tourists with travel guides, Londoners trying to make their way through the mass to the Underground, and above their heads, on the walls of the theatres, were posters for the plays and musicals that were being performed. Souvenir shops had racks of postcards standing on the street, shops advertised their wares, cars, taxis and busses were trying to make their way through the traffic, and in the midst of it all were a man with greying hair, a big black dog and a sort-of-invisible Hippogriff, trying to make sense of the city around them.  
"Let's go for some coffee," Remus suggested to the dog. It nodded, and the three of them set of to a place where they could escape from the mass.  
Remus bought coffee at a shop called "Burger King," at Leicester Square, and a bottle of water for Padfoot, while the animal and the Animagus waited outside, then they went to sit in the park. Buckbeak searched for insects in the grass, still undetected by Muggles, while Padfoot sat at Remus' feet and Remus was battling with the plastic lid on his coffee cup. He finally managed to tear it off, poured sugar in it, took a sip, sighed, and sat back.  
"It's not that bad here," he told Padfoot. The dog sort of snorted. "I do hope that everything with Mr Ollivander will go a bit smoothly. We do need to be in time for Kingsley." Padfoot made a sort of "hmm" sound.  
Silence.  
Remus sighed. "It's horrible to have a conversation with you when you're like this," he said. "Let's be off, okay?"  
The dog nodded. Remus quickly finished his coffee and they got to their feet (and paws). Remus was unsure how to get Buckbeak's attention – he could hardly call "oi, Buckbeak!" to what seemed to be thin air – but fortunately, Buckbeak had seen them get up, and he trotted towards them to see what was going on. Remus took the rope again and headed in the direction of Charing Cross Road, to the bookshop next to the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
Mr Ollivander was already waiting for them. He was standing in front of the bookshop, looking through the window at the displayed books. He was dressed as a Muggle and holding an inconspicuous leather briefcase in his hand, but somehow he seemed to have something that made the people around him step away from him. Despite it being busy, Ollivander appeared to stand in his own private bubble.  
Remus walked up to him. "Mr Ollivander?"  
_Those eyes_, he thought, as Ollivander turned to him. His huge, pale eyes rested on him for a moment, and he smiled a rather mysterious, small smile. He glanced at Padfoot before saying: "So. Ready?" And without further ado, he turned on his heels and pushed the door of the bookshop open. Remus and Padfoot followed suit, leaving Buckbeak tied to a streetlamp outside. Ollivander determinedly made his way through the bookshop, not even looking over his shoulder to see if they were following. They went through a door with peeling paint (Remus looked at the man behind the counter, but he didn't seem to notice) and up a narrow and steep staircase. Ollivander opened another door and walked into the room as if he owns it. His two visitors (it certainly felt that way to Remus) walked in, and he carefully locked the door before turning to Padfoot.  
"Now, if you'd please…" He gestured 'up'. Padfoot got the message, and quickly changed into Sirius. He carefully scooted away from the window.  
"Where are we?" he asked.  
"On the edge of Diagon Alley," Ollivander said. He clicked the briefcase open. "Look out of the window."  
Remus stepped towards the window and looked out of it. It was a somewhat bizarre experience – seeing the cluttered wizard street, filled with robed people, while knowing that there was a Muggle bookshop right under his feet.  
"Surreal," he said. Sirius came to stand next to window, and he peeked outside as well.  
"Can't Muggles see this?" he wanted to know.  
"No, it's been charmed," Ollivander said, taking what seemed to be a roll of purple velvet out of his briefcase. "Much like your Hippogriff."  
"And the man behind the counter, downstairs?" Remus asked.  
"Pretty much the same," was the answer. "Nobody will know that we have been here, nobody will find out that Sirius Black has been so close to Diagon Alley, and certainly nobody will find out – " Ollivander unrolled the velvet, revealing about a hundred wands " – about this."  
The roll of velvet turned out to be a cleverly made bag for wands. The velvet had been folded double and stitched at regular intervals, creating 'pockets' in which Ollivander kept his wands. He now took one out and handed it to Sirius.  
"I have selected wands that I think may suit you," he said solemnly. "Based on your former wand – some with dragon heartstring, others made of ash but with a different core. I hope yours is among them. Well, you know the procedure."  
Sirius' face shone with delight when he took the wand. "I really missed this," he said, before giving the wand a rough flick. It made a whooshing sound but didn't react otherwise.  
"No," muttered Ollivander. "I hadn't expected that one. This one perhaps." He took another wand and handed it to Sirius, carefully storing the first wand away in the velvet sack.  
It took Sirius half an hour to find the right wand. By the end of it, Remus was sitting on a chair, resting his head on his hand, staring blankly out of the window. Sirius' waving had become a sort of half-hearted twirling. Ollivander didn't seem bored at all. He kept handing Sirius wands, patiently going through the supply he had. Nevertheless, it startled all three of them when the wand Sirius waved suddenly began blowing a thin line of smoke.  
"Ah, finally," Sirius said. He painted figures in the air with the smoke. "This one seems about right." He waved the wand again and the smoke disappeared.  
"Yes, indeed." If Ollivander was happy or even relieved, he didn't show it – he still looked creepy. "Dragon heartstring, twelve inches, made of oak. Almost the same, but not quite… not quite." He seemed lost in thoughts for a moment, then shook himself awake again. "Now, basic wand maintenance – do we need to go over it again?"  
"No, not really," Sirius smiled. "I think I know the drill." He routinely slipped the wand in his pocket as if it belonged there. "What do I owe you?"  
"Nothing." Ollivander stopped rolling the velvet sack to a bundle. "Consider it just a favour among friends."  
"Oh… ok…"  
Ollivander packed the wands into the briefcase again and clicked it shut. He picked it up and then turned to the two friends. "I think we'd better go now," he said. "Before the Disillusionment charm wears off."  
"Good idea," Remus said. He got to his feet. "Padfoot?"  
Sirius gave a small sigh – he'd rather have stayed a bit longer to try out his new wand – but obediently changed into the big black dog. Ollivander unlocked the door and gestured for them to go first. They walked down the stairs, and before they knew it there were back in what seemed to be a whole other universe but what actually was just Charing Cross Road.  
Remus turned around to thank Mr Ollivander again, but before he could open his mouth the man shook his head, said "no thanks, please, no thanks." And without another word he disappeared in the crowd.  
"Well, that was slightly weird," commented Remus. Padfoot nodded. "Shall we try and find Kingsley in this beehive they call London?" Padfoot nodded again, and they set of.  
Buckbeak was still where they'd left him, although he now looked decidedly grumpier. He didn't seem to like London on a summer day.  
Remus carefully untied him, all too aware of the sharp beak near his hands. When he had untied the rope, he turned to Padfoot. "Let's go."  
And so they did.  
  
It was exactly four o'clock when they arrived in the park where they were supposed to meet Kingsley Shacklebolt. Compared to Charing Cross Road, Victoria Embankment Gardens were delightfully quiet. A few people were enjoying the sunshine on the grass, and a man with an ice-cream van was doing an good business. On the other side of the street that was running alongside the Gardens, the Thames glittered in the sunlight. Excursion boats with tourists occasionally sailed by, and it generally just seemed a whole other world compared with the West End.  
Remus let Buckbeak loose on the grass and sat down on a bench under a tree. Padfoot laid down at his feet like the docile dog he was supposed to be.  
"D'you want an ice-cream?" Remus asked, looking at the man behind the van handing one to a woman with curly brown hair. Padfoot looked oddly at him. "No, I suppose not…" He sighed. "I wish Kingsley was here already."  
The woman who'd just bought the ice-cream walked passed them. She smiled at Remus, but her smile faded when she saw Padfoot. She gave him a strange, inquiring look, and when she walked on, she looked back over her shoulder.  
Padfoot looked at Remus, frowning.  
"Yeah, I know," Remus said. "Maybe she's never seen a dog that big…" Judging from Padfoot's look, neither of them really believed it.  
It was to both's relief that Kingsley showed up a few minutes later. He wasn't alone, however; walking by his side was a young woman with violently green hair. She said something to Kingsley and then pointed to Remus and Padfoot.  
The man and the Animagus got to their feet in a much more shocked way than they'd intended. _Is it so easy to see that we're waiting for them? _Remus thought. His feeling of unease wasn't exactly helped by the fact that Padfoot was trying to hide behind his legs (a failed attempt, of course).  
Kingsley was smiling when he reached them, which reassured Remus that they weren't going to get caught today. The Auror extended a hand, which Remus shook, and Kingsley even petted Padfoot (which the Animagus grudgingly allowed).  
"I see you managed to make it," Kingsley said. "Let me introduce you: Tonks, this is Remus Lupin. Remus, meet Nymphadora Tonks." Padfoot suddenly looked very interested.  
Tonks flinched. "Just Tonks, please."  
Remus grinned. "What's wrong with Nymphadora?"  
"What's not?" she shuddered.  
"I think Tonks would like to be introduced to your dog too," Kingsley prompted.   
"Oh…" Remus said. "Eh, of course. Uhm, Tonks, this is Padfoot."  
Both Padfoot and Tonks reacted rather strangely. Instead of acting like a dog, Padfoot just stared at Tonks, looking slightly stunned but happy at the same time. And instead of petting Padfoot, Tonks stared back, eventually raising her hand and saying "hi."  
"This is so weird," she said.  
"What?" Remus said. "It's just a dog," he lied.  
"She knows, Remus," Kingsley said, before Remus was about to say anything else.   
"She _knows_?" Remus said, then, hissing – "what, did you tell all your colleagues? Is this the new form of Auror's secrecy or something?!"  
"Calm down – " Kingsley tried to shush, but Tonks interrupted him.  
"Well, you're not so secretive yourself, talking about meeting Kingsley in the middle of a park," she said cheerfully.  
Remus stared.  
"What? But… we only just met… huh?"  
Behind his knees, Padfoot suddenly made an "ooh, of course!" gesture, which nobody saw.  
Kingsley rolled his eyes. "Yes, if you want to put it bluntly. She was the woman who walked past you." When he saw Remus' stare, he added: "she's a Metamorphmagus, Remus."  
"Like this," Tonks said. She shut her eyes tightly, and her hair changed from short and green to brown and curly before Remus' eyes. "See?"  
"Right…" he said. "Well, anyway, not to be rude or anything, but…" To Kingsley: "why did you bring her?"  
"Because she's an Auror and because she's related to Sirius Black," Kingsley explained calmly. "And I thought she might come in useful."  
"Aha..." Remus said. _Related? So I'm talking with a relative of Sirius now? Weird._  
"Let's go somewhere more private," Kingsley suggested, although it sounded more like an order with his voice.  
"Right," Remus said. "Where, exactly?"  
Kingsley gestured for them to follow. They crossed the Gardens and walked through several streets until Kingsley stopped at a wooden door.  
"In here, please."  
Remus tied Buckbeak, who had leisurely trotted after them, to a streetlamp again, and followed the other three up a staircase. Kingsley unlocked a door.  
"Now," he said before letting them in. "Don't make a mess, please."  
"Wow, Kingsley, this is your_ house_?" Tonks said. "I didn't even know you had one. I just assumed you lived at the Ministry." She winked. "Being the devoted Auror you are."  
Kingsley pulled a face at her. "Very funny."  
Kingsley's house was sort of how Remus had expected it – and somehow it wasn't. It was odd to see that this man had a private life, like Tonks said. The apartment was clean and tidy, and actually really nothing special. Two sofas and a coffee-table, a few plants in pots, a bookcase, a few paintings on the wall (Kingsley appeared to have a taste for abstract art in bright colours, a bit like African art). Kingsley had an open kitchen, where he was now making coffee. Glass doors led to a small balcony with plants on it.  
"Nobody will know we're here, right?" Remus asked, as he came to stand next to Kingsley.  
"Not a soul," the Auror promised. "I've put up some protection charms – I don't like my own colleagues looking over my shoulder when I'm at home."  
Remus smiled. "I can imagine."  
Kingsley looked at Remus. "If that was an un-asked question: yes, Sirius can change back."  
Remus turned around to his friend. Padfoot had laid down on the wooden floor, his eyes still on Tonks. She was looking at one of the objects Kingsley had exposed in his bookcase (strangely enough, Kingsley used his bookcase to store not just books – something Remus would never be able to do, because he'd clutter the case with books immediately). Tonks kept glancing at Padfoot, although she pretended not to.  
"Padfoot," Remus called. The dog looked up. "Be Sirius."  
"You know you can turn that into a pun?" Kingsley inquired.  
"Yes, a horrible pun, actually," Remus muttered.  
Sirius lost no time now he'd got permission. He enthusiastically got to his feet and changed back into his more usual form. "Finally," was the first thing he said.  
Tonks now didn't even pretend to be interested in anything else anymore. She stared at Sirius. "It _is_ you..." she finally said.  
"Heu, yeah... guess so," Sirius said in a sheepish attempt at humour. "Looks like it."  
"You never told me you were an Animagus," Tonks said accusingly. It was the first thing that came up in her head.  
"Well _you_ never told me... told me..."Sirius tried to argue, then he realised there was nothing to argue about. "No, I didn't." Sirius looked somewhat ashamed. "You see, I never got registrered, and your mother wouldn't think it a good example."  
"And you cared about that... when?" Tonks asked, trying to repress a smile. Seeing her smile, Sirius couldn't help himself anymore either. One of the most radiant smiles Remus had ever seen appeared on his friend's face. "Am I forgiven?" Sirius asked.  
"Hmm..." Tonks pretended to doubt. "Well... ok. You are." She giggled, giddy with happiness. Sirius didn't seem much better either.  
"Is it really true you actually broke out of Azkaban?" Tonks asked eagerly.  
"Yep. Using my illegal Animagus-skills. Again something your mother wouldn't approve of," Sirius grinned.  
"Cool," Tonks said. "And you didn't kill the Potters?"  
Sirius' grin faded. "I'd never have killed them. And I didn't betray them either."  
Remus saw that this conversation was rapidly going into the wrong direction. He grabbed two mugs of coffee.  
"We got coffee," he said, walking into the living room. Sirius seemed to wake up abruptly from a reverie. He took the mug with a small smile. "Thanks, Moony."  
Remus handed the other mug to Tonks. "You stil haven't told me how you two are related," he said, purposefully steering the conversation away from the Potters.  
"Sirius is my mother's cousin," Tonks told him. "My mum married a muggle-born, so the rest of her family said she was a blood-traitor and all that, but Sirius didn't. He used to come over quite a lot, to my joy and sometimes to my mother's dismay." She turned to Sirius. "She never told you, but she sometimes thought you could have a bad influence on me – seventeen is _not_ an age to build cushion-fortresses." Sirius burst into laughing.  
"Not that we cared," he said.  
"No, but that's besides the point," Tonks grinned.  
"Ah, of course not." Sirius' eyes shone with joy and something remarkably like pride while he looked at Tonks. "Tell me, can you still 'make faces'?"  
"You mean like this?" Tonks shut her eyes again as if she was concentrating on something. Her brown hair turned sleek and black, and it grew until her midrif. Her facial features changed too – slightly more handsome, with high cheekbones. When she opened her eyes again, they were grey. She looked like a female Sirius.  
"Amazing, eh, Moony?" Sirius said conversationally. "Can you do him too?"  
"What? Do who too?" Remus asked, still amazed. He'd never seen a Metamorphmagus before.  
"Do you, he means," Tonks said. She shut her eyes again. Her hair shortened until it was just past her shoulders, then the colour lightened until it was lightbrown. Her nose elongated slightly and her complexion paled somewhat. But it didn't stop there – crowsfeet appeared next to her tightly shut eyes and grey hairs appeared near her temples and through her hair. She appeared to age twenty years in just ten seconds. And when she opened her eyes again, they were yellow. Remus stared at his female self.  
"Brilliantly done," Sirius complimented. "You forgot the little scar on the bridge of his nose though. Here." He pointed it out on Remus' face.  
"Blah, details," Tonks waved it away.  
"Showing off again?" Kingsley interrupted calmly.  
"I'm sorry, Big Boss," Tonks said mock-reverently. "What important matters would you like to discuss?"  
"Sirius Black. And stop looking like that, I know he's standing right here," he added, annoyed. "Sirius, I've told the Ministry that you've been spotted in Thailand. I've managed to fake some testimonies – "  
"You faked them!" Tonks said, astounded. Kingsley ignored her.  
" – and I've even contacted the Ministry there to keep an eye out for you, although they'll of course never find you. It should work out for the time being, at least if you're not running around London with a Hippogriff..."  
"We needed that to get here," Sirius said calmly.  
"Anyway," Kingsley continued, "I've got everything under control, unless something really weird turns up."  
"Ah, good," was Sirius' comment. "Was that everything?"  
"Sirius..." Remus said reprimanding. _Stop sounding so careless. It's your life after all._  
"No, really, Moony, couldn't he have just send a letter?" Sirius protested.  
"Fair point," Kingsley said before Remus could answer. "There is something else. About that 'something weird'..."  
"Yes?"  
"Is it true that You-Know-Who's back?" the Auror asked, coming straight to the point.  
"Yes," said Sirius, just as matter-of-factly. The news wasn't taken so calmly, though.  
The only sign of Kingsley's shock was a sharp intake of breath. Tonks, on the other hand, was so taken by surprise that she nearly lost her balance.  
"Seriously?" she said, a note of panic in her voice.  
"Yes, it's true," Remus said.  
"But _how_..?" she asked.  
Sirius explained it all, unconsciously making a big point of the fact that Peter had helped Voldemort come back and that it was Harry who'd seen it all.  
"But are you sure?" Kingsley asked, urgently. Sirius looked annoyed.  
"Harry's my Godson, he told me this only an hour after he'd witnessed all this, and he told me this in the presence of Dumbledore," he said. "I have no reason not to believe him."  
_Had Kingsley had any hair on his head, he would've run his fingers through it in consternation_, Remus thought.  
"But..." Kingsley said. "I... back?"  
Sirius shrugged. "Can't make anything else of it."  
"Sirius, don't be such a bully," Remus interrupted. "At least tell them about the Order before they are completely sure Voldemort's going to murder them in their beds." He had just had a bright moment: both Kingsley and Tonsk were Aurors, and Aurors made up a large part of the Order of the Phoenix. They would be great helps, not in the least because Tonks was a metamorphmagus and could go everywhere without being noticed, and Kingsley was helping Sirius anyway.  
"What Order?" Kingsley wanted to know. Like a true Auror, he didn't like not knowing stuff.  
And so Sirius explained. How Dumbledore had founded the Order to fight Voldemort, how the two of them, the Potters. Peter and Moody (whom Kingsley appeared to regard as a hero) had been a part of it, and how Dumbledore had called the Order back together again now Voldemort was back.  
"And you want us in it, right?" Tonks asked cleverly of Remus.  
"Well, yes," he admitted. "You're both Aurors, like quite a few members of the old Order, and, well... you're not overly fond of Voldemort, I think – " _Apart from the name_, he thought. _We need to teach them to stop flinching when we say it. _  
"That's an understatement," Sirius muttered.  
" – and I think we could really use your help."  
"Any risks involved?" Kingsley inquired.  
"Torture, death, losing friends or relatives," Sirius said, forcing his tone to stay light. "But we've got dental insurance and maybe free t-shirts too."  
"That's always a good thing," Kingsley said, smiling.  
"Well, are you in or are you out?" Sirius asked, never the patient one.  
"I'm in," Tonks said. "It seems cool." Catching Remus' glance, she added hastily: "and necessary, of course. Oh no, that cool came out totally wrong...."  
"We got the main message," Sirius smiled. "Kingsley?"  
The tall Auror thought about it for a few moments, then said in his calm, low voice: "I'm in."  
  
"Shouldn't we feel proud now?" Remus asked, handing Sirius the chips he had bought. Sirius was standing hidden in a shadowy corner. They'd left Kingsley's house only fifteen minutes before and they were actually supposed to go home. But Sirius had announced that he was hungry, so Remus had suggested buying some chips.  
"Yeah, probably," Sirius said. He stuffed some chips in his mouth. "Dumbledore will probably want to hug us."  
"Eugh, I hope not," Remus said, taking some chips too. "No offence to Dumbledore, but I do _not_ want to be hugged by him."  
Sirius laughed softly. "No, me neither."  
They finished the chips in silence. It was only when Remus had thrown the bag away and Sirius was whiping his greasy fingers on his pants, ignoring Remus' looks, that Sirius said: "and now what?"  
"Home?" Remus suggested.  
"I'm having a stupid idea," Sirius announced. "And keep your sarcastic comments to yourself."  
"I wasn't going to say anything," Remus lied. "What was your idea?"  
"Want to see where I was born?"  
"You mean that's somewhere overhere?"  
"Yeah, sort of. Not too far away anyway."  
"Well, sure."  
"Okay. Follow me then." Sirius changed back into Padfoot. Remus beckoned for Buckbeak to follow them, and they set off, through deserted and dark streets. They'd been walking for at least fifteen minutes when they reached a small square. It was dilapidated, and garbage was rotting away. The houses around the square didn't look looked-after either, and Remus frowned at Padfoot – _are you sure it's overhere?_ But Padfoot walked determinedly to one of the houses. It was just as shabby as the houses next to it, but it somehow seemed as if it had had more style than the other houses ever had. Although the door was scratched, it appeared to be decorated with carvings, and the serpent-shaped knocker seemed to be made of silver.  
Remus looked at the narrow house, from the stone steps leading to the front to the roof, which he could just make out in the twilight. From what he could see, the house had at least four floors, if not more. The windows were boarded, and it didn't seem anybody lived in it anymore.  
"Nice thing, eh?" Sirius said, scaring the living daylights out of Remus.  
"Sure this is a good idea?" he hissed. "What if anybody sees you?"  
"They won't," Sirius shrugged. "And they won't recognise me anyway, not when it's this dark. Anyway, what do you say, does it look like a nice little home?"  
Remus looked at the house again. "Frankly... no."  
"You got good taste," Sirius said. "It looks even worse from the inside, trust me."  
"Then why did you drag me here in the first place?" Remus wanted to know.  
"Remember the stupid idea I had?" Sirius asked in return.  
"Yes."  
"Remember Dumbledore writing a couple of days ago that he would like a new Head Quarters for the Order in London?"  
"Again, yes."  
"And remember me telling you that this house is now mine?"  
"Sirius, you seem to have gotten under the impression that there's something wrong with my memory. There's not, trust me."  
"Remus," Sirius said patiently, "you're smart. Most of the time anyway. Put it together. The Order wants a Head Quarters... I've got an empty house... in London... Hm?"  
"You want to suggest using your house as the new Head Quarters?" Remus asked, slightly taken aback.  
"Yes, exactly."  
Remus thought about this for a moment. And the more he thought about this, the better the idea seemed. "You know," he said, "it's actually a rather good idea."  
"Of course it is, it's one of my ideas."  
"And I'm simply ignoring that statement."  
"Don't you always, Moony."  
  
**That little bit at the end in which authors babble endlessly about their own stories.**

Yay, I'm back, with a new fict! And, as you may have noticed, a new title! "Order of the Wolf" wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms, and I didn't really like it either, so I decided to change it. I came up with this one in England, the middle of the night, much to my friend Anne's chagrin, because I was so extatic about my new title that I woke her up, because of a title for a fict she didn't even read anyway...

Sometimes I'm evil.  
This chapter is suffering first-chapter-disease, btw. It doesn't really seem to go anywhere, and it's too long (about 11 pages). It's all just setting the story up... And because OotP is so long, I have to chuck a lot in my chapters just to get somewhere. I've got the first few chapters planned already, and by the looks of it, Harry isn't going to appear until the third chapter or so. And I think this fict is going to have as many chapters as Wanderings - 22 - which means: long chapters.  
Readers cheer

Now let's hope "real life" doesn't interfere too often...

Oh, another thing this chapter suffers from is the fact that I seem to have lost feel for the characters a bit. One of my proofreaders noted that Remus seemed less intelligent than he usually is, and that Sirius seemed in control. Reading back, I do have to agree with that: Remus did seem rather dim in some scenes... Well, let's just say that spending time with Yippee-I'm-relatively-free-so-let's-be silly-and-annoy-my-best-friend!Sirius has affected his mental capacities...  
I had great fun with my map of London while writing this chapter, by the way. It turned out that Charing Cross Road is actually really near to my favourite part of London: Leicester Square. And yes, there ís a Burger King at Leicester Square, which does sell coffee, and hot chocolate, and where Anne and I spend a delightful hour playing "who is Alan Rickman?" ("it's that guy with that weird beard! He's practicing for his new role!") in our very first summer in England. In fact, when we saw a picture of Sean Biggerstaff at the CoS premiere, we cheered. Not because it was Sean Biggerstaff, but because it was "our" Burger King in the background!  
Yes, we are that pathetic...  
Anyway... REVIEW!!


	2. Number 12, Grimmauld Place

**A few days later, still June 1995.**  
_"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."_

"Still sure about it?"  
Sirius sighed. "Moony, _Dumbledore_ agreed with me. Doesn't that make it a good idea?"  
"Well, Dumbledore lets Snape teach Harry."  
"Don't go nicking my arguments. It is a good idea and we _are_ going in."  
The duo was standing in front of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. It was, according to Remus at least, ridiculously early in the morning. Despite there being hardly anybody in the street, they were nervously looking around. Sirius was still wanted, and not even Sirius wearing sunglasses (at half past eight in the morning) kept Remus from looking over his shoulder.  
"Well," he said. "Ready to go in?"  
"No use standing around, is there?" Sirius agreed. "And if we want the house ready this afternoon, before the rest comes in, we'd better hurry."  
"Quite right," Remus said. He walked up the stone steps to the door and reached out for the serpent-shaped knocker. Before he could touch it, however, Sirius harshly pulled his hand away.  
"Silver," he said. "Better not touch it, unless you want a nice serpent burn in your hand. And besides, I bet the door's got a charm on it. Big chance that only a Black can open it. Let me try."  
Remus obediently stepped out of the way. Sirius pulled out his wand and looked pensively at the door. "What was the combination again?" he muttered. "Ah!" He tapped his wand on the door on what seemed random places, then he stepped back. Nothing seemed to happen at first, then they both heard a rather loud clicking and rattling coming from inside.  
"That's the lock," Sirius told Remus. "I figured they wouldn't have changed it, so little people know about it. And it's nearly impossible to crack if you don't know where to tap. Ah, here we are."  
The door had stopped clicking and rattling. Sirius touched the silver knocker and pushed. The heavy door opened creakily. Sirius peered around it.  
"Cheerful," he said. "Let's go in, then."  
Sirius was the first to g on. Remus followed him, carefully looking over his shoulder once more to be sure that they weren't being seen, but there was no-one on the square.  
'Cheerful' was about the last word Remus would use to describe the hall they were now in. It was nearly pitch-blank and smelled as if something was rotting away. He squinted his eyes to see more. There seemed to come a little light from somewhere at the back of the house, and from upstairs too – maybe there were large windows.  
"Light?" he whispered. He wasn't sure why he was whispering, but he somehow didn't want to be noticed.  
"Good idea," Sirius agreed, whispering as well. "Lumos." A light appeared on the tip of his wand, and the two could finally look around.  
"Oh bloody hell," Sirius said.  
Remus could fully understand that reaction. It was in fact a remark he'd wanted to make himself. He couldn't remember ever being in a house so...dark.  
There were old gas lamps on the walls, which were covered with peeling, musty old wallpaper and had old paintings on them. Remus and Sirius were standing on a threadbare carpet, which, by the look of it, used to have a pattern, but it had faded over time. An old table was standing on Remus' right, with an age-blackened silver candelabra on it. Above there heads, a few glimmering reflections of the light in silver revealed an old cobweb-covered chandelier. Ahead of them, only barely visible in the small light, was an old, dark staircase with a carpet that was so dark-red it was almost black.  
The house hadn't caused Sirius' exclamation though. He hadn't even looked at his surroundings, but was staring straight ahead with a horrified expression on his face.  
"Bloody hell," he said again. Remus looked to see what was wrong.  
Sirius was staring at a portrait of an old woman who was just waking up. She was wearing a black cap to cover her dry white hair. She was wearing expensive-looking robes embroidered with silver. Her hands, which were folded on her lap, were wearing fingerless gloves made of black lace and she was wearing several beautifully-crafted silver rings with emeralds and onyxes.  
Beautiful and expensive as her clothes and jewellery may be, Remus couldn't help but notice that she had a sour expression on her old face. Her straight nose and high cheekbones hinted at a beauty she had once possessed, but that was now long gone. Her face was now wrinkled and her skin was yellowing. And it wasn't exactly helping that she had white crusts of dried saliva at the corners of her mouth.  
"Who is _that_?" Remus asked. He was looking fascinated at the portrait.  
"You don't want to know," Sirius muttered. "Trust me. I think we'd better leave – quickly."  
The portrait was blinking her eyes against the light. "Who's that?" she said. Her voice was old and creaking, but it still had a ring of authority in it. "Kreacher?"  
"Go," Sirius hissed, backing away to the door. "Remus, that's my – "  
The woman's gaze flitted towards the pair. Her dark eyes widened. Then all hell broke loose.  
"YOU!" she screamed. Remus jumped a foot in the air; for a split-second he thought she was talking to him. But her eyes were fixed on Sirius, who was looking back, pale but with a look of utter revulsion on his face.  
"BLOOD-TRAITOR!" the woman continued. "SHAME OF MY FLESH! TO THINK THAT I HELD YOU TO MY BOSOM! FILTH! TRAITOR!"  
The noise was so overwhelming that for a moment Remus could only stare, dumbfounded. Then he realised just what the woman was screaming. He turned to Sirius.  
"She _what_?" he yelled, trying to be heard over the deafening screaming. Sirius had his hands clapped over his ears.  
"Outside," he mouthed.  
"HOW DARE YOU COME BACK AND BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS?!" the woman continued as they ran back to the door. Remus hastily pushed the door open and nearly tripped as he ran down the stone steps. The portrait's screaming was still ringing in his ears as Sirius fled from the house, smacking the door shut behind him.  
  
"As you'll understand, I'm not exactly _happy_ with having her as my mother," Sirius said.  
They were sitting on the stone steps leading to the Black's door, waiting until the portrait of Sirius' mother had calmed down (and hopefully fallen asleep again). It had taken Sirius some explaining before Remus accepted that, yes, that was really Sirius' mother. And no, he didn't like her either.  
"She seems to have got worse since I left," Sirius said. "Not that she was much better before. Always going on about Purebloods being better and that kind of stuff. How I was a disgrace for being sorted into Gryffindor and actually _liking_ my fellow house-members. I always used to hope that James' parents would adopt me. Or even your parents."  
"Or _even_ my parents?" Remus repeated, raising an eyebrow. A small grin appeared on Sirius' face.  
"Really, I like your parents, Moony, but I always had the impression that they wouldn't like me as their son," he said. "Sometimes I even wondered whether they liked me as your friend, especially those times I dragged you onto a broomstick again and made you do loopings and dives."  
Remus smiled, then turned serious again. "But honestly, your mother...I finally really understand why you ran away."  
"And that's only a portrait," Sirius said sourly. "She was worse in real life. You were sometimes complaining about your parents being over-protective, but I would've killed for parents like that – sometimes anyway. At least your parents, well, accepted what you are. My parents would've kicked you out, if not worse."  
"Not that friendly towards werewolves, hm?"  
"You're right up there with Mudbloods and Muggles, Moony."  
"At least I'm in good company then," Remus tried to cheer Sirius up a bit. It didn't really help.  
"I can only imagine what they'd say if I turned up with you," he continued gloomily. "A half-blood werewolf, just middle-class, your father – only three generations of wizards in his blood – working a simple job at the Ministry. Oh, I know he loves it," Sirius added when he saw Remus' look, "but that just doesn't matter to my family. That's the kind of people they are."  
"Can I hate your mum?" Remus asked.  
"Feel free to," Sirius muttered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looked over his shoulder at the door. "Shall we try again?"  
Remus sighed. "Yes, let's."  
  
Mrs Black appeared to have fallen asleep again. The hall was silent when Remus and Sirius tiptoed into it, careful even to keep their breathing silent.  
"Let's go to the back of the house," Sirius breathed, so silently that even Remus had trouble hearing it.  
Remus followed his friend down the hall. Sirius had lit the tip of his wand again, shielding the light with his hand so that he could only see a few feet around him. Apart from their footsteps on the carpet, the house was quiet. They sometimes heard something scuttling behind the skirting board, but it was gone before they had time to really listen to it.  
Sirius opened a door with a stained-glass window showing a snake curled around a white rose. The door led to what seemed to have been a small sitting room. There was a hazy light filtering through the dirt on the huge windows, and they could finally make out their surroundings without wand-light. The furniture was covered with dust. Two sofas were standing near a fireplace, above which a mirror with a silver frame was hanging. Pots were standing near the glass doors towards a small, narrow garden, the remnants of the plants now nothing more but shrivelled brownish earth.  
"This used to be the room where my parents invited their guests before taking them in the next room for dinner," Sirius told Remus. He looked around bitterly. "I was always able to see how much my parents liked a particular guest by how far into the house he got. If he got until the hall - barely tolerable. If he got into here - worth talking to. If they were taken upstairs, he or she was well-thought of, or at least respected. And if he got to go into the library and my mother's sitting room as well, they were either really dear friends or related."  
"Did it ever happen that somebody was degraded all the way back?" Remus asked. Sirius laughed mirthlessly.  
"Oh yes. Tonks' mum – Andromeda, my favourite cousin. She was the daughter of my father's brother. Her sisters both turned out to be Death Eaters – Narcissa's married to Lucius Malfoy – but Andromeda was the decent one. In my eyes at least. Anyway – " Sirius sighed. "– she married a muggleborn, a really nice guy. But to my family, she might as well have gone and married an animal. So she was disowned, kicked out of the family, wiped from the family tree. Her own mother swore never to look her in the face again. So there she went, from the back of the house to the front steps." Sirius smiled bitterly. "I bet Tonks has never seen her grandparents from her mother's side, not in real life anyway."  
Remus sighed inaudibly. This was something he would probably never be able to understand. He came from a loving family himself, and it was a mystery to him how parents could hate their children, or vice versa. This entire house and the history that came with it seemed another world.  
"What's behind these windows?" he asked, looking at the dirt-covered glass doors.  
"A garden," Sirius said. "Small garden, but still. My mother used to grow roses there. Red, since they didn't have black, green or silver ones."  
Remus ignored this lame attempt at humour. "Want to show me what's upstairs?"  
"Sure. After all," Sirius gave a little mock-bow, "you _are_ a very dear friend."  
Being back in his old home had given Sirius a kind of sarcastic attitude Remus didn't like at all. He was normally just slightly sarcastic, but never really hurtful. There was usually a good distinction between joke or insult. But he had now turned bitter and resentful, and Remus wasn't sure what to make of it. He didn't want to judge Sirius' family because he'd never actually met them. He had only heard stories from Sirius, and he wasn't exactly impartial. On the other hand, Sirius was his best friend, why shouldn't Remus be on his side?  
He gave an irritated sigh. Associating with Sirius seemed to make everything so _difficult_...  
Sirius showed Remus the dining room too, before going upstairs. It was a large room with a long table, covered with a thick layer of dust. Large mirrors on the wall bathed the room in a fake light, that was reflected from Sirius' wand. Again, the chandeliers and the candelabras were made of silver. It still had something of that old elegance it must've had, once.  
They went back to the hall, tiptoed past the dozing Mrs Black and walked up the stairs. Everything was so dark, barely illuminated by Sirius' wandlight, with the odd glimmers of the light being reflected on old silver, that Remus had the odd sensation of walking underwater through the wreck of an old ship. He'd nearly expect a group of fish to swim by.  
"These are the heads of our old house-elves," Sirius whispered as they passed the shrunken heads.  
"Charming."  
"Here's our drawing room," was the next thing Sirius showed. The drawing room was almost cosy. It was much less formal than the reception room downstairs. It had clearly-used sofas, a big hearth and tapestries decorating the walls. Again, green, black, silver and white were the dominant colours.  
"Why white though?" Remus asked as they climbed the stairs to the second landing.  
"It goes nicely with black," Sirius said simply. "My mother was rather fond of the colour. Liked to dress in white to contrast with my father. Combine it with silver jewellery and you get a kind of elegance that is as cold as snow. Judging by her portrait, though, she's switched to black after my father died, as is of course the _proper_ thing to do. And that mattered greatly to her. Very _proper_ woman, my mother was."  
They had reached the second landing. It had two doors on either side, both with silver serpent-shaped doorknobs.  
"And this is?"  
"Our bedrooms," Sirius sighed. "The heir – "he gestured to the right door, "– and the spare." The left door.  
Remus very much wanted to tell Sirius to cut it out, but it would only result in an argument, and he hated that. Especially with Sirius, who was a master of hitting back exactly where it hurt most and of not speaking for days, simply out of spite. It was not something Remus was looking for, so he decided to just ignore the tone in which the comment was made.  
"Can I have a look?" he asked. Sirius made a 'if you want to'-gesture. Remus carefully wrapped his sleeve around his hand and opened the door.  
The room was empty, save for a bare bed, a dilapidated old desk, a painting that showed nothing and a walk-in closet which was empty (the door was wide open).  
"Err," said Remus. For a moment, he was lost for words.  
"What is it?" Sirius asked. He bluntly pushed the door further open and stepped in. "I'd expected something like this. They took everything out, not surprising. After all, I as good as died, didn't I?" He laughed his bark-like laugh, and Remus flinched.  
"And here we have – "Sirius marched out of the room and into the one opposite, carelessly and arrogantly leaving both doors wide open, "– my dear brother's room. Not stripped bare, of course, since _he_ was a good boy." Indeed, Regulus' room was still furnished. It was a stark contrast to Sirius' room. The desk had a silver writing-set on it – ink-pot, quill-standard, a knife with a silver handle to sharpen the pen – the chair seemed only just covered with dark-green velvet, and when Sirius threw the walk-in closet open, Remus could see embroidered robes, black cloaks and carefully stored silver fastenings for them. A framed Hogwarts-certificate hung on the wall, a Slytherin tie pinned next to it. The bed was even made. The only sign that the occupant of this room wasn't likely to return soon was the inch-thick layer of dust.  
"Lovely, just charming," said Sirius sarcastically. Remus said nothing. He had nothing to say about a house that seemed to ooze evil, and he could only begin to imagine what it was like to grow up in an environment like this.  
A sort of restlessness seemed to have come over Sirius, and he strode out of the room again, up the third staircase. Remus hastily followed him.  
The third landing led to a series of doors, according to Sirius leading to the guest rooms. "Very high honour, of course, if you were allowed to stay here."  
They climbed another staircase. The fourth landing led to two doors, much like the second handing had. To Remus' surprise, a small smile appeared on Sirius' face.  
"I think you'd like this," he said. "My father's study and the family library."  
He opened the first door, revealing a study many people would die for. The oak writing desk was neatly polished, the chair pulled back invitingly. Two comfortable reading-chairs stood next to the huge hearth. The mantelpiece was sculptured with images of snakes and lizards crawling across it. Old portraits of softly snoring people decorated the walls.  
"Wow," Remus commented. "Quite nice."  
"Yeah, it's not bad," said Sirius in an off-hand tone. It was the first time he'd actually said something positive about the house. "I wonder who's been cleaning it all, though."  
"You said something about a library?"  
Sirius grinned. "Said the magic word, didn't I?"  
They went back onto the landing again, to the other, considerably larger door. Sirius took the doorknob – "I do hope that they're letting non-Blacks in" – and opened the door.  
Remus' jaw dropped with pure glee.  
Imagine a kid, just an average kid, who absolutely loves candy, but doesn't get enough pocket-money to buy it. Then imagine that same kid being placed in a candy-store and being told to 'take what you like'.  
You get the same reaction when you place Remus in a two-story, centuries-old library.  
Sirius could just barely held in his laughter as he watched his friend walk open-mouthed to the middle of the library, then standing perfectly still to stare.  
Indeed, it was a magnificent library. Shelves and shelves of books, two stories high. As Remus later excitedly told his friend, it had to be one of the finest collections of magical books in Britain (not that Sirius didn't know that already). It had a very wide range, from hand-written texts on dragons, leather-bound tomes on poisonous herbs and sixteenth-century poetry to the newest (well, 1985) books about curses. The only thing that was conspicuous by its absence was a section with Muggle-books: all books were written by wizards.  
"Well, you have to keep the race clean, don't you," said Sirius when Remus commented on this. "The same goes for libraries. Shall we go on?"  
"Can I come back here later?" Remus asked eagerly. Sirius laughed, a genuine laugh.  
"Moony, you can have it all, really," he said. "Do with it whatever you want. Just be careful: there are some books that can be rather nasty. Snapping shut with your fingers between the pages, for example. Or you face between them, for that matter."  
Remus followed Sirius up the fifth and final staircase. "We're now coming," said Sirius, "to the Holiest of Holiest; my moth – what's wrong?"  
Remus had stopped in his tracks. He was sure he had heard something, but now he listened carefully the sound was gone.  
"What's wrong?" Sirius repeated more urgently.  
"I thought I heard something," Remus said. He was still trying to find the sound, listening intently. Nothing.  
"Maybe rats?" Sirius suggested.  
"No, it sounded nothing like rats." Remus stood there listening for another few moments, then shook his head. "It's gone. Let's go on."  
They climbed the rest of the stairs and ended up on the fifth landing. Again two doors.  
"As I was saying," Sirius announced, "this is the most sacred and most vile part of the entire house – not that that's saying much. My parent's rooms." He pointed. "That one's my father's, and that one's my mother's room."  
Remus pulled up his eyebrows. "Please don't tell me your parents had separate bedrooms."  
"Of course they had. They had two sons already, they had no reason to spend time together."  
He reached out to the doorknob, but Remus pulled his hand back.  
"There it was again."  
Sirius tensed, and Remus could see his grip on his wand tighten. "Where?" he whispered.  
Remus nodded to the other door.  
"What?" said Sirius on a normal level, making Remus flinch. "In there? Who'd ever want to go in _there_?"  
Remus immediately heard the scurrying get more frantic, as if the person inside was quickly getting away. "We'd better hurry, before – "  
Sirius kicked the door open. "Who's there?" he bellowed.  
There was no-one there.  
"Odd." Sirius walked into the room. "There's nobody here." He turned to Remus. "This was my mother's room. As you can see, she liked white."  
That much was obvious. It was almost painful to the eyes. The bed and the writing desk with its carved legs were made of very light wood. The carpet on the floor was cream coloured, and the chaisse-longue and the chair near the fireplace had white cushions on them. The bed was made with snow-white linen. And here too silver candelabras, little silver pots with make-up, a hairbrush with a silver back. The room was distinctly feminine but very cold.  
"You can come in if you want to," Sirius said. Remus did a step forward – and walked against a glass plate.  
"I can't," he said, taken-aback. He stretched out his hands, but still couldn't come into the room. "It's locked. For me at least."  
"Damn, it surprised me already that you had such an easy time coming into everything." Sirius walked back to the door. "You truly can't come in?"  
"No. It's like walking against a wall of glass."  
"Must be a Familiarity charm then," Sirius concluded. "It doesn't know you, so you can't come in." He looked around. "Don't see why you'd want to, but still."  
"It's the principle."  
"Yeah."  
They were silent for a moment, and thus they both heard it. Someone was inside Mrs Black closet. Sirius suddenly had a predatorily gleam in his eyes. He took a few long strides to the closet and yanked the door open.  
"What are you doing here?!" he yelled, then – "oh Merlin, _no_!"  
"What is it?" Remus asked, annoyed that he couldn't come in but had to stand outside with his nose pressed against an invisible wall (not literally).  
Sirius didn't answer, but reached down, grabbed something and threw it into the room, on the creamy floor. The something was small, greenish, scrawny – and moving. It landed on its backside and slid a few feet further. Remus watched in amazement as it seemed to uncurl itself, crawl to its feet, and reveal itself as a house-elf. A very old house-elf, that is.  
He (it seemed to be male anyway) was rather small, even for a house-elf, and so old and wrinkled that his skin seemed too big. He had large ears, almost like a bat, and tufts of white hair protruded from it. He was clothed in a loincloth that was barely more than a rag. His nose was snout-like and his eyes, which he had suspiciously narrowed, were bloodshot.  
"Kreacher," said Sirius disdainfully. The elf did a fake double-take, then bowed so deeply that it was nearly an insult.  
"Master," it croaked. His voice was a surprise to Remus – it was deep, deeper than he'd expected from such a small creature, and it was rather croaky. "Young Master Sirius."  
"What are you doing here?" Sirius demanded. He suddenly seemed completely changed. Remus suspected that this was the old Sirius, the pureblood-, spoilt-, prince-like Sirius. He was standing straight, his eyes narrowed with revulsion. He seemed to have no doubt that he would get an answer.  
"Kreacher is cleaning the Mistress's room," the elf said. Then, to both Remus' and Sirius' amazement, he added in an undertone: "and now Kreacher has to start all over again now Master has been here, ungrateful scum, how my Mistress would hate him for being back, making the house dirty with his presence alone – "  
"_What_?" Sirius' exclamation seemed to hit Kreacher like a whip, but he kept muttering.  
"He broke the Mistress's heart, he did, befriending Muggles and Mudbloods, a blood traitor, yes, he was, he brought shame upon the house of Black –"  
"Yes, we've heard enough." Sirius took Kreacher by the scruff of his neck and threw him onto the landing. "Get out of my sight."  
Kreacher scrambled to his feet again, looking back with as much hatred as Sirius. He scurried past Remus – "and bringing his filthy friends too, Mudbloods, unnatural creatures, filth, all of them" – and disappeared.  
"_That_," Sirius said in a tone of the utmost loathing, "was our old house-elf, Kreacher."  
"Nice," Remus said uncertainly.  
"No, not nice." Sirius was still fuming a little as he walked out of the room again. "I wish I could kick him out."  
"Then do so."  
"No, he's seen me now. And I wouldn't put it past him to betray me." He gritted his teeth. "Let's get downstairs again, the rest of the Order will arrive soon. We'll need to clean out a lot, unfortunately. _Cleaning my Mistress's room_." Sirius snorted. "Sure. About the only rooms he ever cleaned."  
Remus quietly followed his friend downstairs. The last few hours had been very strange.  
  
Remus checked his watch. "Should be any minute now." The dog at his feet sighed wearily and raised his head to look around. But Grimmauld Place was still as quiet as ever.  
Remus turned his ear towards the door. "And I think _she_'s calmed down too."  
It hadn't been until Sirius had stomped into the hall that they had remembered about Mrs Black's portrait. The noise of their footsteps had woken her up, and she had begun screaming insults again. Something had cracked inside Sirius, and he had begun shouting back until Remus had finally managed to calm him down again. They'd discovered two large curtains on either side of the portrait, and when they'd forced them shut, the portrait finally shut up too. Sirius had irritably hissed that this whole thing had been his worst idea ever, and if it were up to him he'd burn the entire house down.  
Remus had had nothing to say to that, Sirius knew perfectly well that this was the best new Head Quarters for the Order. They were now sitting on the steps to the door again, waiting for Dumbledore.  
"Really," Remus said, "it's the best option. It has so many charms on it to make it undetectable, nobody will be able to find it, especially not if Dumbledore puts on some protection of his own. Okay, the atmosphere's lousy, but I'm sure that if we clean out some rooms it can be rather nice – "  
Padfoot gave him a reprimanding glare.  
"Okay, sorry." Remus raised his hands defensively. "I'll stop lecturing. And repeating myself."  
They looked up when a man suddenly appeared on the Place. He had a long silvery beard, was wearing Muggle-clothes but just didn't seem used to them, and when he had walked towards them, they could see the perpetual twinkle in his blue eyes.  
"Good afternoon," Albus Dumbledore greeted, sounding solemn but cheerful at the same time. Remus got up.  
"Sir," he said, gesturing dramatically to the house, "your new Head Quarters."


	3. Guard duty

**I'm very sorry if the lay-out is badly messed up. The site and the uploading system wouldn't agree with me...**

****

**June/July 1995.**

"_They're always talking about guard duty."_

"_Couldn't have been me, could it?" _

"_Oh, yeah..." _

As soon as Dumbledore had approved of the new Head Quarters, Remus and Sirius packed their stuff and moved in. They were soon joined by almost the entire Weasley family.

Arthur and Molly had agreed to help Dumbledore in his fight against Voldemort. As Molly had lost her two brothers, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, to the Death Eaters, she had reason enough to fight the Dark Lord and his followers. Although it was also one of the reasons why Arthur joined, he mainly did it out of principle. He had lost his trust in Fudge quite some time ago, and had decided to join the Order as soon as Bill had contacted him after Voldemort's return, only a month ago.

They had stayed at the Burrow, their home in Ottery St Catchpole, for the first few weeks, but had soon decided that too inconvenient, too far away from London. Molly didn't like having her children so far away from her and leaving them for hours a day, and seeing as the Head Quarters was a big house with many rooms anyway, the matter was soon settled. The Weasleys locked up their house and moved into 12 Grimmauld Place, taking four of their seven children with them.

It any of the children thought it a strange experience to be living in the same house as one of their former professors and a wanted prisoner, they didn't show it. They did give Remus the odd side-glance at first, and he had a feeling that Fred and George kept their wild antics somewhat down, but they soon got used to passing chocolate-paste to him over breakfast. They still cordially called him by his last name, however. Sirius, on the other hand, was just 'Sirius' from the start. Perhaps it was something instinctive, but the three born pranksters found one another in no-time, and Sirius was soon 'passing on his wisdom to the younger generation', much to Molly's dismay.

The only – familiar – Weasley who was missing was a certain pompous ex-Head Boy. Although Remus hadn't had much contact with him when he had been a teacher at Hogwarts, he had taken a liking to him. Sirius claimed that it was just the Prefect in Remus, but it was more than that. Apart from sticking to the rules, Percy had shown some character, he was usually fair, and he was smart, scoring never lower than Exceeds Expectation, and usually Outstanding.

When he inquired after Percy's whereabouts, he was however met with angry reactions. Molly didn't want to talk about it, the twins gritted their teeth, Ginny and Ron were silent too, and only Arthur wanted to give a short explanation, albeit with great reluctance.

Percy, it transpired, hadn't been so pro-Dumbledore as his parents. He had been promoted by Fudge – Junior Assistant to the Minister himself. Although Percy was delighted, his parents had been less so. "We – had an argument," was all that Arthur wanted to say about it, but Remus and Sirius managed to piece it all together with small comments. Arthur had said that Fudge wanted Percy to spy on his family. Percy had, in return, shouted that his father's bad reputation as a Muggle-lover had never done him any good, quite the contrary. He had then packed his bags and left to live in London. They all knew where – Molly had try to talk to him but he had closed the door in her face. The Order had silently agreed never to mention him again, or, as Sirius had put it when there had been no Weasley around: "he is now He Who We Never Talk About".

To make the invasion complete, Molly and Arthur's other two sons, whom Remus had never met, occasionally visited Grimmauld Place too. Charlie had been there only twice before going back to Rumania again. Although he was build stocky, like the twins, he had nothing of their character: he was laid-back, calm and reliable. The kind of person Remus liked. His elder brother, Bill, was more a Sirius-person. In fact, the first time they met him, Remus had had to laugh at how 'Sirius' Bill was – he even had the dragon-skin boots and the ponytail. It seemed only natural that they were drawn towards one another, those times that Bill was at Grimmauld Place. He didn't always have time – he apparently had a girlfriend, or so Fred and George couldn't stop insinuating.

Making the group of 'youngsters' almost complete, was Hermione, who had asked and been given permission to spend her summer with the Weasleys. She spent most of her days with the other children, which was a good thing, according to Sirius, because "she's like a little female you, Moony."

Remus huffed at that. "Don't be ridiculous. She's hardly anything like me."

"Except that she always has some book near her and she's a know-it-all."

"Which I'm not."

"Keep thinking that, Moony, if it gives you comfort."

The only person who'd make their party complete, was Harry. Sirius in particular missed him. The Weasleys were nice substitutes and occasionally a good laugh, but Harry was his Godson and he had been asked to look after him by _James_. He had messed up so badly already, he thought, he wanted Harry near him to try and make up for it.

"We can't keep him in that backward part of the country they call Surrey," he had argued one Order-meeting. "I know he needs that protection from – from his mother's family, but he's been stuck there for weeks now. He's be better off here."

Dumbledore had not given in. "I still maintain that Harry should remain at Privet Drive," he had said. "The protection he is now under is the most secure there is. There is no chance that he will be found."

"Then why does everybody have to do bloody guard duty if Harry is so safe?" Sirius had sneered – but to Remus, not to Dumbledore. Remus had warned Sirius that he liked to stay out of this argument, resulting in Sirius being angry for the rest of the evening and Remus feeling guilty for causing it.

* * *

Life at Grimmauld Place had been fairly quiet for about a month. Monster turned quite wild in the huge house. He had taken to exploring, disappearing for hours and sometimes days on end, but always turning up again to demand food. Apart from the occasional worry about that, June had turned into July without anything interesting happening. Much to everybody's relief, Voldemort seemed to have decided to keep his head low for the time being. So far, Remus' days had been filled with helping cleaning up, guard duty, meetings with the Order and entertaining Sirius. There were compensations, however: whenever he had a few minutes free time, he sneaked away to the library. It was a treasure cave with ancient books and booby-traps. Remus loved it. 

It was the last day of July when he tried to get to the library again. He had a few hours off before Apparating to Surrey, it was his turn tonight, but he figured he was allowed a few hours among books. He had nearly reached the doors to the library when he was interrupted by Sirius.

"So it's guard duty for you tonight?" Sirius stood on the last few steps of the stairs, leaning against the wall. He seemed casual, but Remus could read his friend like no other and saw that Sirius was far from relaxed.

"Yes," he said. "Thought I might as well look through a few more shelves." He nodded towards the library. His official excuse for spending so much time there was that he wanted to check the books for jinxes and other nasty stuff.

"Remus," Sirius said urgently, immediately coming to the point, "let me come to Surrey with you tonight. As Padfoot."

"You can't," Remus said immediately. "Dumbledore – "

"Won't have to know!" Sirius snapped. The mention of the Headmaster had been the wrong thing to do, and he suddenly turned from just tense to angry. "He's being too fucking careful! It's Harry's birthday for Christ's sake! I don't have to talk to him or anything, I just want to _see_ him!

"I know you do," Remus tried to shush. "But you're not to leave the house. We don't know who knows you're Padfoot – yet," he added. "You running around London a few weeks back was dangerous enough as it was. Snape hinted as much."

"_Snape?!_" Sirius mouthed, too angry to say anything. If mentioning Dumbledore was wrong, talking about Snape was punishable by death. "You just _want_ me stuck in this house, don't you, Remus? Finally, Sirius is locked away, so he can't do anything stupid!"

"That's not true –," Remus tried to cut in.

"And of course it's all too convenient," Sirius stormed on. "Nice big house, it's his own anyway, and since everybody's looking for him anyway it's only _reasonable_ to keep him inside! And meanwhile everybody else can just get out whenever they want, doing their job for the Order, being useful – even bloody _Snape_ – while I'm stuck here!" He had yelled those last words.

Remus opened his mouth, but before he could speak –

"Is Master alright?" a deep, maliciously entertained voice spoke from somewhere. Kreacher appeared on the stairs, a few steps lower than Sirius. He looked up at his master with an utterly unconvincing look of submission.

"Sod off, Kreacher!" Sirius bellowed. He stomped down the stairs and threatened to throw Kreacher down.

"Master can do as Master pleases," Kreacher lisped. He added something inaudibly in an undertone, but it was no doubt something rude.

"No, Master cannot," Sirius said bitterly. He glared at Remus, then looked back at Kreacher. "Get out of my sight. Go do something useful." He threatened Kreacher with his boot again, but the house-elf was gone before he could hit him.

"I'll go do something _useful_, too, shan't I?" Sirius asked sarcastically of Remus. "Not that it will be anything exciting or remotely interesting..." He walked down the stairs, not trying to move quietly. A few minutes later, Remus could hear Mrs Black start shouting again.

He rubbed his forehead. Sometimes, dealing with Sirius was like dealing with an obstinate child. It simply seemed impossible to make him see sense, no matter how hard he tried. He shook his head. It would be impossible to talk some sense into Sirius at the moment anyway. He turned around and opened the doors to the library.

The large room was much like how Remus had first seen it, a few weeks ago. Kreacher had only half-heartedly dusted a few shelves after Sirius had ordered him to do so, and Mrs Weasley hadn't reached this part of the house yet, she was still busy with more important rooms such as bedrooms and the kitchen. Not that Remus cared; he thought an old, dusty library had its own kind of charm.

He walked to the shelf he had last been examining and picked up a book. It was leather-bound like all the books in the library, and had two snakes coiling along the edges. In the middle it showed a picture of a dragon, and the title: _Historica Serpentium et Draconum_, by one Odysseus Aldrovodus. The book looked practically ancient: the leather was stained and the pages were yellow. He opened it expectantly.

"Is Sirius alright?"

Remus jumped at least a foot in the air. He turned sharply around.

Hermione's bushy head poked around the corner of one of the comfy chairs near the fireplace. She was looking at him curiously, and Remus could just see the corner of a large book on her lap.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, unable to keep a slightly sharp tone from his voice.

"I don't like cleaning as much as Mrs Weasley does," she said. "So I'm skiving off. Please don't tell anyone."

Remus thought it better not to admit he was doing the exact same thing.

"It Sirius alright?" Hermione repeated.

"Yes, he's fine," Remus lied. "Hermione, I think you'd better go downstairs. I don't think this is...a library you'd like."

"Or who'd like me," Hermione said dryly. "I was only able to take this book, the rest seemed stuck. I think they're charmed for... people like me. This one was the only one he'd let me read." She showed Remus the book: _Malleus Maleficarum_, it said on the cover.

"Fascinating read," she commented. She put it back on the shelf and walked to the door. Before she opened it, however, she turned around again.

"Professor, may I ask something? About Sirius?"

Remus eyed her carefully. "Yes," he said. "But I can't promise you an answer."

She leaned against the door, her hands folded behind her back. The schoolgirl pose was a strange contrast to the casual jeans and shirt she was wearing and the fly-away hair she didn't seem bothered to tame.

"I don't know if you know," she began, "but last spring, when Sirius was, you know, hiding in a cave near Hogwarts, Harry and Ron and I visited him – "

"Yes, Sirius told me," Remus said.

"Well," Hermione continued, relieved that she could skip a great deal of explaining. "We came to talk about Mr Crouch and his house-elf, and then Sirius said something I had to think of a lot the last few days."

"And what's that?"

"He said that, if you want to take a good measure of someone, you have to look at how he treats his inferiors and not his equals." Hermione hesitated.

Remus could already see where she was going, but he decided to let her say it.

"It's just that..." She seemed to make an effort to word it all very carefully. "He just doesn't seem to follow his own advice."

Remus had suddenly difficulty fighting back a smile, but then he berated himself. After all, she didn't know Sirius half as well as he did. She didn't know how unlikely it was for Sirius to follow his own advice, especially a genuinely good one like that. Sirius knew what was right, but he had a hard time acting it, remembering to do it instead of giving in to the easy way.

"I can understand that Sirius's had a hard time," Hermione continued passionately, unaware of Remus's thoughts, "but it's just not _fair_. It's not like Kreacher can do anything against his mistreatment. And Sirius genuinely seems to enjoy it. And then he tells us to judge people by how they treat their inferiors? It doesn't make sense, does it?" She frowned at Remus.

"Just promise me one thing," he said, smiling a little. "Whatever you do, don't repeat that speech to Sirius." When he saw that Hermione wanted to protest, he quickly added: "you're right, I agree. Sirius's treatment of Kreacher is not... good. And it doesn't match with what he told you. But I'd advice you not to tell him. Very few people like having their own words thrown back at them, and Sirius likes it least of all." He gave a weak smile. "I learned that from experience."

There was a moment of silence. Then Hermione said: "but really, how can he say such a thing if he doesn't live up to it?"

Remus sighed. "Hermione, Sirius is one of those persons who knows best but doesn't do it. For God's sake don't tell anybody I said this, but Sirius has a tendency to forget to think. He knows what would be the best thing to do, he does. And I believe he really stood behind what he said to you, then. But... well, let's be honest. He hates Kreacher. He hates him and everything he stands for; the house, the family, the life. He can't go kicking the house nor his family, but he can take his anger out on Kreacher, who doesn't have the power to do anything back. And that anger made him forget what he said a few months ago."

Hermione still looked disdainful.

"And it's a habit, I suppose," Remus continued. "When he was a child, Sirius had been learned to treat Kreacher like almost less than a servant, more like an object that does what you want him to do."

"It's all because of the accepted abuse of house-elves," Hermione burst. "They have been treated like dirt for centuries and they can't even do anything back!"

"Not all elves are treated like that," Remus said.

"No, but most are! They need to realise that they _can_ stand up for themselves!"

"That would go against their nature, I think," Remus replied, frowning.

"There's a house-elf at Hogwarts who doesn't think so," Hermione objected.

"Then he's an odd one, like there are odd ones everywhere."

"And what Sirius is doing to Kreacher is _normal_?"

"No, you're now twisting my words around. Abusing someone who is, as some would have it, inferior to you, is not normal – even though you hate that person," he added. "It may be accepted... among certain society, but that doesn't make it right. On the other hand, you cannot force a house-elf to liberate itself either. Serving is in their blood, their species. They're made to serve, if you will. No matter how violently Kreacher dislikes Sirius, he _must_ do as Sirius tells him, he cannot _not_ do it. As you may have heard, a house-elf that hasn't done its duty or doesn't keep his master's secrets must punish himself. It's the result of generations. It's their nature, and you can't change that overnight. Even if you really want to."

"That's what people keep telling me," Hermione said hotly. "But Dobby – "

"Hermione!" Remus said, almost laughing at her stubbornness. "Have you not yet learned one case isn't an example for the entire group? If that would be the case, what would you have thought if you had met Kreacher before this... Dobby?" This shut her up. She even had the dignity to blush.

"And before you go on an anti-house-elf abuse crusade," he continued, "try to look and judge objectively whether the 'poor little house-elves' really want freedom. Try to judge the person and not the stereotype. You're too smart to do that, I know you are."

Hermione opened her mouth, closed it again, seemed to think something over, paused again, then said: "err..."

Remus waited patiently.

"Can I come back on that?" she asked.

"Certainly," Remus said courteously. He checked his watch. "But not right now, I need to go." He looked at her and grinned. "Homework: a blistering retort to my comments."

She grinned too. "Certainly, sir. How many rolls of parchment would you like?"

* * *

Privet Drive, Little Winging, Surrey. 

The setting sun shone her orange rays on the street. The grass in the gardens was yellow and the flowers looked rather pathetic: it had been very warm the past few weeks, and people had been ordered to cut down on their water-usage. Despite it being already halfway through the evening, it was still very warm, and most people stayed indoors with their air-conditioning, fans and iced drinks.

Remus was wishing he could get something with ice too. He was sitting on the kerb stone in front of number five, Privet Drive, keeping an eye on number four, on the opposite side of the street. Although there was nobody in sight, he was wrapped in Moody's Invisibility Cloak so that he wouldn't be noticed. Arabella Figg had offered to bring him something to drink, but he had declined. Now he regretted that decision.

It wasn't exactly as if guard duty was so exciting either. The Dursleys turned out to be very dull people. Mr and Mrs Dursley usually kept to the house. Their son, Dudley, went out with his friends almost every evening, but kept to the neighbourhood. And as for the person Remus was supposed to pay attention to, Harry, he stayed indoors for most of the day too, only coming out around sunset to walk a few blocks round. Always the same round, too. Harry didn't seem to feel particularly happy. It made Remus think of Sirius.

Before he had Apparated to Surrey, to relieve Emmeline Vance of her guard duty, Sirius had again tried to persuade Remus to take him with him. Remus had had to force himself to keep denying, even when Sirius had nearly lowered himself to begging. Remus only succeeded in not giving in by telling himself constantly that Sirius was safer inside. Sirius had angrily narrowed his eyes when he had realised that Remus was serious, and he had restlessly walked up the stairs. Just as restlessly as Harry haunted the streets.

Sitting on a kerb between two parked cars in a deserted street on a warm evening turned out to be great for thinking. Remus' mind wandered about as he kept an eye on the Dursley's house.

He remembered what Sirius had said that afternoon: 'you_ want_ me stuck in this house, don't you?' If he was really honest with himself, Remus had to admit it was true. He did want Sirius kept safe inside, away from the dangerous world outside. The problem was that Sirius wasn't an indoor-person, not even in a large house like Grimmauld Place. Or perhaps _especially_ not in a house like 12 Grimmauld Place. Remus lived there now, but he could at least go out of doors, unlike Sirius. And unlike Sirius, Remus didn't have bad childhood memories connected to every room. Not to mention the evil house-elf stalking about.

His mind turned to Hermione. She had defended Kreacher so passionately – it was obvious to Remus that she hadn't changed in the year since he'd last seen her. He had to admit he could see her point – but on the other hand he could fully understand Sirius too. But they were both so godforsaken stubborn... He sighed and smiled at the same time. Sirius always claimed that Hermione was like Remus, but, Remus thought, _they_ might actually have their stubbornness in common.

He went over their conversation again and repeated his own words to himself. _Try to judge the person and not the stereotype_, he thought. _That's actually a really good advice. I can pat myself on the back. _

The sound of a door opening made him look up. Dudley Dursley had appeared in the door of number 4 Privet Drive.

"I'm going out, mum!" he called. "I'll be at Gordon's!" He didn't wait for a reply, took his bike and cycled away, out of the street. Remus didn't watch him go; he hadn't even moved. Dudley was of no concern to him.

A few minutes later, the door opened again and Harry walked out. Remus sat upright, his attention peaked.

Harry had been looking slightly glum for the past few weeks, but tonight he looked especially depressed. Remus suspected it had something to do with today being his birthday: Ron, Hermione and Sirius had lobbied for making a surprise visit, but they had only been allowed to send gifts and birthday cards. Remus figured Harry must think it a really lousy birthday.

Without looking left or right, Harry walked onto the pavement and into the direction Dudley had gone. Remus got to his feet and followed, making sure the Cloak was still neatly wrapped around him.

He actually hated to do this. He'd much rather throw the Cloak off and reveal himself, but he wasn't allowed. Pretty much the first rule of the Order was: don't get noticed. That was why Moody had loaned one of his Invisibility Cloaks to the people doing guard duty. That was why Remus was walking several yards behind Harry, trying to be as quiet as possible. And it was why Tonks was excused guard duty; they couldn't risk her accidentally walking into a parked car or, God forbid, Harry himself.

Harry was following his usual haunt again. Out of Privet Drive, into Magnolia Crescent, then Magnolia Road, past the small playground with it's broken swings, then back through Magnolia Crescent, through the alleyway between the Crescent and Wisteria Walk until he had reached Privet Drive again. He had walked it so often that to Remus he almost seemed to be sleepwalking.

Within half an hour, they were back at the Dursley's. Harry went back inside and Remus went to sit on the kerb again, musing about how boring guard duty was. The hands of his watch seemed to creep forward, and he felt utterly relieved when Elphias Doge showed up for the next round of keeping watch.

* * *

Not to Remus' surprise, Sirius had stayed up to wait until he came home. He was in fact waiting in the hall, almost literally breathing down Remus' neck when he came in. 

"And?" he breathed, minding Mrs Black, who was softly snoring in her frame. Remus gestured for them to go down to the kitchen.

There was nobody there, although there were signs that a large group of people had been there not too long ago. Mugs and plates with crumbs cluttered the long table, and the dishes in the sink were not yet done.

"And?" Sirius repeated before they were even properly downstairs.

"Bored," Remus answered truthfully.

Sirius snorted disdainfully. "I'm not surprised. It must be very boring, having to spend your entire day among the family you hate."

Remus didn't react, ignoring the bait for comments about Sirius' own family. He rubbed his eyes. "Is there anything to drink?" he asked.

"Yeah, we got Butterbeer, tea, and – a tiny little bit of cold former-hot chocolate," Sirius said.

"Butterbeer, cold please."

When they had installed themselves on one end of the table, an ice-cold bottle of Butterbeer in their hands, Remus admitted: "don't tell anyone, but I actually just wish something would _happen_. Waiting is terrible."

Sirius nodded somewhat sadly. "I know what you mean." He opened both bottles and lifted his own in the air. "To something exciting, then?"

"Yes, to something exciting."

Neither of them remembered the saying 'be careful what you wish for' until a few days later, when they got the news that Harry had been attacked by Dementors.

* * *

Author's note 

You know I was actually really peeved at Jo Rowling last monday? I'm sure you can figure out why: the whole deal about Sirius not keeping to his own advice and stuff. _I had made up that conversation more than six months ago!_ I was writing Wanderings when it popped into my head, and I was so proud of myself, of the thought that just occurred to me. Yes, I had an original, though-provoking idea that made for a great conversation!  
In waltzes Jo with exactly the same thing, and now everybody knows it. And she 'stole' my idea of Sirius mentally still being 22 (or 21, or however) too. At least I already used that one in the final chapter of 'Wanderings'.  
But yeah, I was pretty chagrined. I decided to just stuck the conversation in this chapter and be done with it - it was originally supposed to take place when Harry was already at Grimmauld Place. But I thought I might as well put it in now.

Now, please review! The button is calling to you...


	4. Harry part one

**This is in two parts, since nineteen pages were too much for the site. scowl **

****

**August 1995.**  
_"It's all right, Harry. We've come to take you away."  
"P-Professor Lupin? Is that you?"_

* * *

Dumbledore was seething. Remus had never seen him so angry before. Everybody tiptoed around him, not daring to anger him any further. Mundungus Fletcher, who had left Harry because of a 'lucrative business deal', as he called it, had fallen from grace and was almost bodily thrown out of the house (only to return very timidly a few days later - everybody knew how useful he could be).  
It was fortunate that both Kingsley and Arthur Weasley had been working overtime when the attack happened. They had got the news mere minutes after it had happened and were able to react quickly. They had send a message to Dumbledore straight away, using the Order's way of contacting in case of emergencies for the first time and within five minutes after hearing the news, Arthur had been able to send a message to Harry that he was to stay where he was. The Order's reaction was so fast they could almost send it in the same envelope as the Ministry's message.  
Leaving Kingsley and Dumbledore to sort everything out - someone from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office was hardly useful in this matter - Arthur had gone to Grimmauld Place as fast as he could to break the news to everybody there.  
Sirius had nearly exploded.  
Only Remus insistence that they wait for Dumbledore kept his friend from hitting Mundungus and throwing him out. Not only had Sirius once again been unable to keep Harry safe, but he had been attacked by _Dementors_ too. It was a bit of irony Sirius didn't appreciate at all.  
Through some impressive persuading, Dumbledore had managed to turn Harry's certain expulsion into a to-be-decided one, as he let them know. Sirius had demanded and got an owl, which he used to send a letter to Harry, telling his Godson to stay put. He had had a harder time convincing himself to do so, and he had remained fidgety until Dumbledore and Kingsley arrived, a few hours later. The meeting wasn't pleasant for Mundungus.  
There are all kinds of poetic ways of describing the state Dumbledore was in. He could be breathing fire, looking daggers, or feel anger boiling inside him. The truth was simply that he felt ready to kill Mundungus.  
And it wasn't even just because Harry had been in danger, although that did made up the main part of it. But the head of the Order of the Phoenix also felt betrayed and, to a certain extend, ridiculed because he had put his trust in someone who turned out to be not so trustworthy. Harry hadn't be so safe as he had hoped. And although he was nearly too ashamed to admit it, and at this moment to angry to do so, he was taking his anger with himself out on Mundungus too. Poor man. Poor Mundungus, that is.  
After about ten minutes, Remus began feeling sorry for the crook. As he had noticed so many years ago when Sirius had 'introduced' Snape to the Wolf, a genuinely angry Dumbledore doesn't shout. He just gets really pissed off. Combined with a sense of sarcasm to rival Snape's (who would've thought, indeed) and his fingers twitching to grab his wand, everybody present was forcefully reminded why this seemingly frail old man was the only person Voldemort ever feared. When you've seen Dumbledore really angry, you just don't want to piss him off again.  
Making it worse for Dung was that he'd lost one of his allies. Sirius didn't try and interrupt Dumbledore - he didn't dare to anyway - but he was obviously agreeing with everything the man said, looking ready to trample whatever Dumbledore left of Dung.  
Mundungus had to endure thirty minutes of Angry Dumbledore, and no doubt it was one of the longest half-hour of his life so far. After that, he was told to leave, which he did rather gladly.  
Dumbledore sat down at the kitchen table. His eyes were still blazing and he was being eyed carefully by the people around him.  
"Could I have something to drink?" he asked, forcing himself to get calm. Without asking what he wanted, Sirius poured him a goblet of Firewhiskey. Dumbledore took it without objection.  
A tense silence followed.  
Remus did his best to avoid Sirius' eyes. His friend was about as angry as Dumbledore, if not more so. His entire expression seemed to say 'I told you so.'  
It wasn't until Dumbledore had finished his Firewhiskey (and he had been drinking very slowly) that Arthur Weasley spoke.  
"What are we going to do now?"  
Dumbledore hesitated. Everybody always said that the Headmaster of Hogwarts knew how to fix everything, but only few knew that it was largely due to a great talent for improvisation. Most of his great solutions were made up on the spot.  
"We do nothing," he said finally.  
"What?" Sirius couldn't contain himself. "_Nothing_?"  
"Indeed, nothing," Dumbledore repeated. He got to his feet, and, being about two inches taller than Sirius even, this was a rather impressive move. "There is nothing we can do at the moment. Harry... Harry will not be expelled, his wand has not been taken and he is still where he should be. We have bought some very valuable time, which we need to decide our next move."  
Sirius opened his mouth to protest but Remus called him to order. The last thing they needed was another row about Harry. Sirius grudgingly obeyed his friend.  
"I will go back to the Ministry now," Dumbledore announced, "and see what can be done to help Harry at that Hearing." And without another word, he walked out of the kitchen.

* * *

"We need to get Harry out of there."  
That was the general opinion of the people living in 12 Grimmauld Place the following days. Started by Sirius but fervently supported by Ron, Hermione and Mrs Weasley, nearly the entire Order tried to talk Dumbledore into bringing Harry to the Head Quarters.  
"Because," as Sirius stated, "he's been there for more than a month, he hasn't heard anything from us, it would be much easier to go to the Ministry's Hearing from here, and I think it's proven by now that Privet Drive isn't that safe either." That last argument didn't seem to sit that well with Dumbledore, but he eventually had to agree. Although Remus had a feeling he had been agreeing with them all along, but was just taking his time to make up a plan to get Harry to London.  
Sirius was ecstatic. Finally something that went his way! He immediately began making arrangements for Harry to sleep and even dared suggest himself going to Surrey. That, however, was something Dumbledore would not allow. His reminder that Sirius was to stay inside put a damper on Sirius' excitement and he calmed down considerably.  
Perhaps it was a good thing too that Sirius wasn't allowed to come, because the group who'd volunteered was very large anyway. Dumbledore had imagined it to be a rather quiet affair, not too many people, just flying in and out in fifteen minutes at the most. Mad-Eye Moody had agreed with him; draw as little attention as possible.  
But the prospect of actually meeting Harry Potter, _Harry Potter_, in person was too good to resist. Nearly the entire Order applied and Remus frequently heard members say that they were sorry they had guard duty in the Ministry or other business to attend to, else they would've tried to come too. Snape was almost a relief: he merely scowled at the suggestion.  
By the end of it, they managed to tone it down to nine people. Moody was to come, of course - he would hardly trust anyone else. Kingsley came too, together with Emmeline Vance, Hestia Jones, Elphias Doge, Sturgis Podmore and Nymphadora Tonks. Remus had a feeling Moody wasn't too happy with having her around but she had been eager for the job, and her being an Auror had made her better to have around, Moody thought, than the others who wanted to come. He was never really sure whether non-Aurors could be depended on.  
Remus was to come too. He was the only person who Harry knew and trusted, and who could be sure that it was actually Harry and not, as Moody had explained, an impostor. At the last moment the group was also joined by Dedalus Diggle, so that with Harry they would be an even ten.  
The whole operation was carefully planned. They were to go on brooms. They would set out at sunset on August the sixth. Tonks had sent a letter to the Dursleys to get them out of the house (she had had great fun making up an excuse) and if everything went well, the Advance Guard, as they called themselves, were to arrive a few minutes after the Dursleys had left. Tonks had chosen a place that, what with the Dursleys arriving there, seeing that they had been fooled and going back again, they would have about half an hour. Enough time to rush in, get Harry and get on their way back to London. The entire routine was repeated so often to the Guard that Remus could dream it.  
Thankfully, August the sixth had a relatively clear evening. There were clouds, but they were not hanging too low and they would see anything dangerous coming from about a mile distance. Moody was repeating this to the Guard and everybody gathered in the kitchen to see them off. Remus paid no attention; he had heard it all before. He was standing slightly away from the crowd, with Sirius, putting on his gloves. It was going to be cold up there.  
"Do be careful," Sirius warned. Remus smiled.  
"Sirius, when Harry's on a broom, there's nothing to be worried around. You should actually be more anxious about me not being able to keep up with him."  
Sirius' trademark grin appeared on his face. If anything, this told Remus how excited his friend was.  
"Of course, I didn't count on this kind of situations when I bought him his broom," he said.  
"Well, you should have," Remus joked. "He's a teenager, you should have been prepared for anything."  
"'I´ll keep it in mind for your children," Sirius said.  
"Make that yours. Mine will undoubtedly be good ones, but yours..." He sighed dramatically.  
"Of course, the Moony-genes can't be ruled out. Your children will be little Moony's running around, or, more likely, sitting around reading books."  
"And yours will be little maniacs carting about on tricycles, dreaming about flying motorbikes," Remus said.  
"And I wouldn't accept anything else," came Sirius' reply, sounding almost proudly.  
"Is everybody ready?" Kingsley said loudly. The murmur died away instantly.  
"I would like to go over the procedure once more - " Moody began, but he was met with protest. "Perhaps not," he continued somewhat chagrined. "Now then. We are to fly off in a minute, arriving in Surrey in slightly less than thirty minutes. If the Dursleys have left, we will go in, pick Potter up, go outside again and get back. You all know your appointed place on the way back to London; do not leave it. Always keep an eye out, constant vigilance is of importance! We do not know what we can meet, for all we know our plans could have been leaked to the enemy."  
"Really Moody, whoever could've done that?" Tonks said. "Hardly anybody knows of it."  
Moody muttered something about always being watchful, you never knew what could happen, the Dark Lord and his followers were very shrewd -  
"Can we go now?" Hestia Jones asked.  
"Yes, let's," Kingsley interrupted the still-muttering Moody. "Come on, outside."  
Sirius grabbed Remus' shoulder. "Good luck."  
"Thanks. If Snape gets here before I get back, keep him alive."  
Sirius scowled. "I'll try, but only because you asked."  
The Advance Guard walked out of the house, quietly being wished good luck by the rest of the Order gathered in the hall. It was suddenly silent when Kingsley shut the door.  
The nine gathered on the patch of grass in the middle of the Place. Moody couldn't help himself, he went over everybody's assigned places once more. They all mounted their brooms and were off at Moody's signal.  
Despite Moody's dark predictions, everything went smoothly. There wasn't an enemy in sight and the journey took even less time than they'd thought. They silently landed in the Dursleys' back garden and dismounted their brooms. Everything around them was quiet.  
"First stage of the operation completed," whispered Moody. "Now we must get in and get the package."  
"Package?" giggled Tonks. Remus smiled at her reaction and Moody's military talk.  
"Hush," said Kingsley softly. "We can leave the brooms here, I think - it won't take that long." The nine wizards carefully laid their brooms on a row near one of the Dursley's hedges. Someone who was just casually passing by would probably not notice them, but a more observant person certainly would. They did have to be quick.  
Kingsley unlocked the door with a simple _alohomora_, and they walked into the house single-file. Remus looked curiously around him as he went in, aware that Sirius was probably going to ask him every detail of the house Harry grew up in.  
From what he could see, the Dursleys were decent people. That was it, actually. Just decent. He really had no idea what else to call them; the house turned out to be about as dull as its inhabitants. There were the requisite photos on the mantle piece, the sofas grouped around a TV, the kitchen utensils carefully stored away and the plants well looked-after. But there was no life in the house. It was like a house in a museum.  
"Oh, I hope they haven't taken Harry with them," Tonks said, suddenly anxious.  
"I don't - "Remus began. He had wanted to say that he didn't think the Dursleys would have done that, judging by what Ron and Hermione had told him, but right at that moment Tonks, who had picked up a plate from the table to examine it, accidentally let it slip. She tried to catch it but failed. The crash made everybody jump.  
Moody, not the most relaxed person in the group anyway, immediately had his wand out and was looking around to see who was attacking them. Hestia Jones and Emmeline Vance were giggling more because of shock than of humour. Kingsley glared at Tonks, who looked utterly embarrassed and quickly repaired the plate with a wave of her wand.  
"Really," the tall Auror said, "this was all about silence and not getting noticed. And you go around breaking things!"  
"Sorry," she said. Remus raised a hand to silence her.  
"I heard something." Indeed, something - or more likely someone - was moving upstairs.  
"What is it?" Moody asked, still suspicious.  
Remus smiled. "Harry, I think." He immediately got the attention of the entire group.  
"Let's go and get him then, shall we not," Moody said.  
Because nobody wanted to be left behind in the kitchen, the nine all walked into the hall. Dedalus Diggle was excitedly whispering the tale of him meeting Harry several years ago to Elphias Doge until Moody told him to cut it out.  
Harry was standing on the top of the stairs.  
Remus couldn't help himself - he smiled broadly. Seeing Harry again was almost like... well, like seeing a dear old relative again. Not James, exactly, but close. As was to be expected of Harry, he had his wand out and pointed, a bit uncertainly, at the group, ready for anything.  
"Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out," Moody broke the silence. He started Harry, Remus could see that.  
"Professor Moody?" he said.  
"I don't know so much about "Professor"," Moody said. Tonks rolled her eyes at Kingsley and silently said "blahblahblah." Moody did not see this because he had both eyes on Harry. "Never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."  
Harry did lower his wand slightly but still seemed on his guard. Remus decided to take the matter in hands.  
"It's al right, Harry. We've come to take you away."  
Harry was now really surprised, Remus was sure of it. "P-Professor Lupin?" he stuttered. "Is that you?"  
"Why are we all standing in the dark?" Tonks interrupted. "_Lumos_." The hall suddenly bathed in light, making them all squint their eyes because it was so bright.  
Remus smiled even more broadly when he saw Harry, looking, from what he could judge, quite well. The boy was standing on the head of the stairs, his wand still in his hand. He was dressed in a shirt and jeans, and his hair was - as usual - on end. The expression on his face was very close to shock. Further examination, however, was interrupted by the other members of the Advance Guard breathing down his neck.  
"Oooh, he looks just like I thought he would," Tonks said excitedly. "Wotcher, Harry!"  
"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus," came Kingsley's calm voice, "- he looks exactly like James." Remus smiled at this. Kingsley was the one to know - as the Auror in charge of the search for Sirius Black, he had looked through dozens of photos with Sirius and James.  
"Except the eyes," came Elphias Doge. "Lily's eyes." Elphias had known both Potters, having been in the original Order. It was the reason why he had asked to pick up Harry.  
"Are you quite sure it's him, Lupin?" Moody interrupted, still suspicious. "It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?"  
"Harry, what form does your Patronus take?" Remus asked calmly. It was a question only a handful of people knew the answer to.  
"A stag," said Harry, sounding a bit unsure.  
"That's him, Mad-Eye," said Remus, smiling. Moody scowled a bit.  
Harry made to walk down the stairs, absentmindedly stuffing his wand in his back-pocket.  
"Don't put your wand there, boy!" roared Moody. "What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!"  
"Who d'you know who's lost a buttock?" That was Tonks, of course.  
"Never you mind," Moody seemed to avoid the subject. "You just keep your wand out of your back pocket! Elementary wand-safety, nobody bothers about it any more," he muttered as he limped to the kitchen. "And I saw that," he snapped at Tonks, who had been rolling her eyes.  
Remus ignored them. Harry had arrived at the bottom of the stairs. Remus held out his hand, which Harry shook, still looking shaken.  
"How are you?" Remus asked, studying Harry carefully.  
"F-fine," Harry said. Remus had no reason to believe this was not true. Although he looked slightly pale, Harry seemed fine otherwise. He had grown several inches since Remus last saw him up close, and they were now about as tall. Harry had lost the last childish features he had had at almost-fourteen and had turned into a teenager, tall and gangly and with a deeper voice. He took after his father, Remus noticed, except, indeed, the eyes.  
Harry was looking uncomfortably around at the people staring avidly at him. "I'm - you're really lucky the Dursleys are out ..." he mumbled.  
"Lucky, ha!" laughed Tonks. "It was me who lured them out of the way. Sent a letter by Muggle post telling them they'd been short-listed for the All-England Best Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They're heading off to the prize-giving right now... or they think they are."  
This seemed to amuse Harry for a few seconds. "We are leaving, aren't we?" he asked, sounding urgent. "Soon?"  
"Almost at once," Remus told him, "we're just waiting for the all-clear." Other members of the Order were keeping an eye out for them.  
"Where are we going? The Burrow?"  
"Not The Burrow, no," Remus said. He had been told about the Weasley's home. He motioned Harry to follow him into the kitchen, followed closely by the rest of the Guard, while he went on, "too risky. We've set up Headquarters somewhere un-detectable. It's taken a while..."  
Moody was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking from his hip flask. His eye was spinning around in his head, looking around at the Dursleys' kitchen. Remus thought it time for introductions.  
"This is Alastor Moody, Harry," he said, indicating the man.  
"Yeah, I know," Harry said.  
"And this is Nymphadora -"  
"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus," Tonks shivered, as he had expected. "It's Tonks."  
"Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," Remus smiled.  
"So would you if your fool of a mother had called you _Nymphadora_," muttered Tonks darkly.  
"And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt," Remus went on. Kingsley bowed. "Elphias Doge -"Elphias nodded courteously. "Dedalus Diggle -"  
"We've met before," squeaked Dedalus for the fifth time that evening. He was so excited that he dropped his violet top hat.  
"Emmeline Vance." Emmeline nodded. "Sturgis Podmore." A wink. "And Hestia Jones." Hestia waved, leaning against the kitchen sink next to the toaster. Harry nodded awkwardly to them. He didn't seem to like all the attention.  
"A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you," Remus said, fighting back a grin. He had a hard time at it.  
"Yeah, well, the more the better," said Moody cheerful as ever. "We're your guard, Potter."  
"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off," Remus told the boy. He looked out of the kitchen window. "We've got about fifteen minutes."  
"Very clean, aren't they, these Muggles?" said Tonks conversationally. She was looking interestedly around. "My dad's Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just as it does with wizards?"  
"Er - yeah," said Harry, unsure what to do with this comment and deciding to ignore it all together. "Look -"he turned to Remus, sounding almost accusingly, "what's going on, I haven't heard anything from anyone, what's Vol-?"  
Just the first syllable made more than half of the Guard jump. Hestia Jones hissed, Tonks' hand shook, nearly dropping a glass, and Dedalus Diggle once again dropped his hat.  
"Shut _up_!" Moody growled.  
"What?" said Harry.  
"We're not discussing anything here, it's too risky," Moody reprimanded. He tried to look at Harry but only managed to turn one eye on the boy. His other was stuck facing the ceiling. "Damn it," he said. He reached for the eye. "It keeps getting stuck - ever since that scum wore it." He wedged his fingernails in his eyesocket and plopped the eye out. Everybody flinched.  
"Mad-Eye, you do know that's disgusting, don't you?" said Tonks. Moody ignored her.  
"Get me a glass of water, would you, Harry."  
Harry did so. The members of the Guard who had not seen Harry so closely before - in other words, everybody except Remus - were watching him as though somebody filling a glass with water was the most fascinating thing ever.  
"Cheers," said Moody. He plumped the eye in the water and swirled it around. it was a disgusting sight. "I want three hundred and sixty degrees visibility on the return journey," Moody said determinedly.  
"How're we getting - wherever we're going?" Harry asked.  
"Brooms," Remus told him. "Only way. You're too young to Apparate, they'll be watching the Floo Network and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorised Portkey." Not to mention Kingsley's and Tonks' jobs.  
"Remus says you're a good flyer," Kingsley said to Harry.  
"He's excellent," Remus said. He was looking at his watch and therefore missed Harry's small smile. "Anyway, you'd better go and get packed, Harry, we want to be ready to go when the signal comes."  
"I'll come and help you," Tonks announced. The two disappeared upstairs.  
As soon as they were gone, the rest began discussing Harry.  
"He looks all right," Kingsley noted.  
"It is startling, though," Elphias said. "James, but with Lily's eyes."  
"And has he really lived here all his life?" Hestia wanted to know.  
"Dumbledore thought it the best," Moody growled. He had put his eye back in and it was spinning around.  
"Blimey, look at this," came Sturgis Podmore. He was looking curiously at the microwave. "Look." He pressed a button and the machine bleeped and started zooming. Kingsley rolled his eyes and came to stand next to his colleague.  
Remus ignored them all. He had taken a quill, a bottle of ink and a sheet of parchment and envelope. He sat down to write a letter to the Dursleys. Apart from Dumbledore asking him to, he felt morally obliged, heavy as that may sound.  
  
_Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley,  
Please do not be worried when you find your nephew not at home. We - that is to say, a few of his friends - have come to pick him up. It was thought better, especially after recent events. You can trust that Harry will be well looked-after and that he will be safe. We will get him on the train to school, so you won't have to take the trouble. You will of course be able to welcome your nephew again next summer.  
Kind regards,  
Remus Lupin._  
  
Remus read the letter over a few times. The tone was rather stiff and over-polite, but it had been difficult. What does one write to people one hardly knows except from negative stories?  
Tonks and Harry came stomping down the stairs as he was sealing the letter. "Excellent," he said. "We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Harry, I've left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry -"  
"They won't,' said Harry matter-of-factly.  
"- that you're safe -"  
"That'll just depress them."  
"- and you'll see them next summer," Remus finished dispiritedly. It was like talking to a depressed Sirus.  
"Do I have to?"  
_Exactly like it._ Remus smiled but didn't answer.  
"Come here, boy," came Moody's voice. "I need to Disillusion you."  
"You need to what?" said Harry.  
"Disillusionment Charm," said Moody, raising his wand. "Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll disguise you better. Here you go -"  
Moody whacked Harry on the head. A few seconds later, Harry's body had taken on the colours of the kitchen.  
"Nice one, Moody," Tonks complimented. Remus noticed her hair was now pink.  
"Come on," Moody said. He unlocked the door and walked out, followed by the rest. Remus made sure once more that the letter was in clear view on the kitchen table. Elphias closed the door and locked it again.  
"Clear night," Moody muttered as they all picked up their brooms. Harry had his Firebolt in his hand, being eyed jealously by some, although others seemed to take it as a matter of course: he was Harry Potter, of course he had a first-rate broom.  
"Could've done with a bit more cloud cover," Moody went on. "Right, you," he said to Harry. He seemed glad to have a new one to command about. "We're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks'll be right in front of you, keep close on her tail. Lupin'll be covering you from below. I'm going to be behind you. The rest'll be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed - "  
"Is that likely?" Harry asked nervously. Moody pretended not to have heard him.  
"- the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they'll join you."  
"Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he'll think we're not taking this seriously," Tonks joked. She'd strapped Harry's trunk and his owl's cage to her Comet Two Sixty.  
"I'm just telling the boy the plan," Moody huffed. "Our job's to deliver him safely to Headquarters and if we die in the attempt - "  
"No one's going to die," Kingsley's calm voice comforted them all.  
"Mount your brooms," Remus interrupted. He had been watching the sky carefully, looking for a shower of red wand-sparks. "That's the first signal!" They all did as he told them and waited for the shower of green sparks.  
"Second signal, let's go!"  
They kicked off, Tonks first, followed closely by Harry. He nearly caught up with her but remembered to fly behind her. Moody followed them while Remus took position under them. This was perfectly fine with him - the lower to the ground, the better. The rest of the Guard was circling around them, constantly looking around. Remus scanned the ground, though there was hardly anything to see except darkness and little lights. He hadn't counted on Moody's magical eye, though. "Hard left, hard left, there's a Muggle looking up!" the ex-Auror shouted suddenly.  
Tonks swerved to the left, followed by the rest. Remus merely did as he was told - it proved nearly impossible to keep his eyes on both the people above him and the ground under him, and he decided to just mind the latter.  
"We need more height..." Moody said. "Give it another quarter of a mile!" They immediately soared upwards. Remus was extremely happy that he had remembered to put on gloves - it was freezing up here.  
"Bearing south!" shouted Moody. "Town ahead!" They neatly flew around the huge group of lights.  
"Bear south-east and keep climbing, there's some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!" came Moody's next order.  
"We're not going through clouds!" shouted Tonks over her shoulder, "we'll get soaked, Mad-Eye!" She was wording what everybody was thinking.  
Moody had to give in, although he did keep making them altering their course, sometimes even flying back and taking another route. Remus occasionally glanced upwards to see if Harry was still above him; listening wasn't an option with this wind, even with his ears.  
With Moody's evasive flying, it took them nearly forty-five minutes before they reached London. Remus could see a vast collection of lights, more a bit shining blanket than a mass of individual lights.  
"We ought to double back for a bit, just to make sure we're not being followed!" Moody announced.  
"ARE YOU MAD, MAD-EYE?" Tonks screamed furiously. "We're all frozen to our brooms! If we keep going off-course we're not going to get there until next week! Besides, we're nearly there now!" And indeed, they nearly were. Only half a mile to go.  
"Time to start the descent!" Remus shouted upwards. "Follow Tonks, Harry!" He dived towards the mass of lights. As they got nearer to the city, the lights grew until Remus could make out individual windows and cars. They were, however, heading for one of the darker spots of the city: Grimmauld Place.  
"Here we go!" came Tonks' voice from above. Remus landed, happy to have his feet on the ground, and Tonks came down only seconds after him. She immediately began unbuckling Harry's trunk, clumsily because of her cold fingers.  
Harry landed right behind her. He looked around curiously.  
"Where are we?" he asked.  
Remus shushed him. "In a minute."  
The rest of the Guard had now landed too. They were huddled together on the Place, forming a protective circle around Harry. Moody was rummaging about in his pocket until he took out a silver object - Dumbledore's Put-Outer. "Got it," he muttered. He clicked it several times until all the streetlamps were extinguished.  
"Borrowed it from Dumbledore," Moody explained, pocketing the Put-Outer again. "That'll take care of any Muggles looking out of the window, see? Now come on, quick." He took Harry roughly by the arm and pushed rather than led him onto the pavement. Remus and Tonks took Harry's trunk and followed, clumsily walking with the handle of the trunk in one hand and their brooms in the other. The others had their wands out, guarding them.  
Moody thrust a piece of parchment to Harry. "Here." He held his wand close to it so that Harry could read it. "Read quickly and memorise."  
Harry did so. Remus knew what the parchment said; it was the password to the Headquarters.  
"What's the Order of the -?" Harry began curiously, but Moody silenced him.  
"Not here, boy!" he snarled. "Wait till we're inside!" He harshly took the bit of parchment again and set fire to it, dropping the burning pieces onto the pavement until it was completely gone. Harry had watched this with amazement.  
"But where's -?" he tried again.  
"Think about what you've just memorised," Remus hinted, much kinder than Moody.  
Harry had clearly done so, because Remus had barely said it and the House appeared in all it's dark, forgotten glory.  
"Come on, hurry," Moody growled, not wanting to loose any time. He pushed Harry towards the stone steps. Remus quickly came to stand next to him and tapped the door with his wand. Sirius had changed the lock, so that everybody who was living in the house was able to open the door instead of anybody from the Black family. Remus had felt strangely proud, the first time he'd unlocked the lock.  
The door opened with loud creaking, too loud for the Guard's taste.  
"Get in quick, Harry," Remus told the boy, "but don't go far inside and don't touch anything."  
Harry stepped into the house.  
The Guard filed in after him, cluttering uncertainly in the dark. Tonks and Remus stumbled into the hall with the trunk and the owl-cage. Moody lit the streetlamps again, then closed the door. There was complete darkness, and the only sound was that of the old building and the breathing of ten people in the dark.  
"Here," Moody whispered. Remus heard a distinct "toc!" as Moody hit Harry with his wand. "Now stay still, everyone," the former Auror continued, "while I give us a bit of light in here." He walked towards one of the old gas lamps, seeing perfectly with his magical eye, and tapped it. Hissing and sputtering, the lamps lit, casting a flickering light on the hallway.  
A door opened on the other end of the hall, and Molly Weasley appeared. She beamed when she saw Harry and quickly walked towards him. "Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!" she whispered. She hugged him tightly, then inspected him at arms-length in that typically motherly fashion. "You're looking peaky; you need feeding up, but you'll have to wait a bit for dinner, I'm afraid." She then turned to the others: "he's just arrived, the meeting's started."  
Good news. Everybody smiled and murmured interestedly. Tonks and Remus carefully stored Harry's trunk and cage against the wall, so that nobody would trip over it, then followed the others to the other end of the hall, to the kitchen. Harry made to follow him, but Mrs Weasley held him back.  
"No, Harry, the meeting's only for members of the Order." Remus didn't hear how the conversation went on because the kitchen door was closed behind him and Sirius positively jumped on him.  
"Finally," he said. "How's Harry?"  
"Perfectly all right," Remus replied, peeling off his gloves, coat and scarf. "What a welcome. Can I have something to drink?"  
"Certainly," Sirius said, taking his friend's coat and hanging it on a peg. He seemed restless. "What would you like?"  
"Something warm," Remus shivered. "It was freezing up there. I could make bad comments about Eskimo summers instead of Indian summers."  
Sirius laughed and handed Remus a goblet of warm wine. "He's upstairs now, I presume?"  
"Yes, Molly's probably led him to his room. Or your room. Or whatever."  
"Both," Sirius said. "_My casa es su casa_, except with rooms."  
"I'll just assume," came a sneer from the table, "that you mean _mi alcoba es su alcoba_."  
"If you like," said Sirius stiffly. Snape smirked.  
The Potions Master was sitting on one end of the table, surrounded by scrolls and lengths of parchment. He looked exceedingly well and almost cheerful; perhaps he was one of those people who thrived in dangerous times. Or it had something to do with Sirius' situation.  
He nodded curtly to Remus, mainly to acknowledge the other man's presence. Remus nodded back.  
"I see you have kept him alive," he said in an undertone to Sirius. Sirius scowled.  
"Only because killing him would've brought me into more trouble." He added, a bit more cheerfully: "but he only needs to stay alive _physically_, right?"  
Remus rolled his eyes and ignored this comment. It wasn't worth answering.  
Molly came back into the kitchen and everybody took a seat. The meeting could begin.  
It was a bit unusual that Dumbledore wasn't there. Normally, the head of the Order would take matters in hand, leading the group. He had, however, decided to stay out of Harry's presence at the moment. It had to do with Voldemort. Dumbledore had reasons to suspect that the Dark Lord was trying to control Harry, to, if possible, possess him. The first person he would go for was, of course, Dumbledore. Once he was gone, the Order would be without a leader and Voldemort would practically have free reign. Dumbledore wanted to avoid this risk, even if it meant avoiding Harry. He had left very detailed instructions, however, on what he wanted to know from everybody.  
They took turns. First the Advance Guard. Moody related the entire event to the rest of the Order, and it was generally agreed that things couldn't have gone better. Then Arthur told them what was happening at the Ministry and what he had heard. He was supplemented by his son, Bill, and by Kingsley and Tonks, who all said that general opinion was that Dumbledore was an old fool and that Harry was lying. Fudge wasn't very co-operative either. Third were the ones who had been looking for new members of the Order. Elphias Doge was the spokesperson for this group. As he said, it could have been better but they had been able to secure the good-will of several people, which was, in this short time and with the contrary opinion of the Ministry, more than they had hoped for.  
Finally, there came the news they had all been waiting for.  
Snape knew it, of course. He knew that he was now the most important person in the assembled group, that they were all dying to know what he had to tell, and he relished in it. All this picking up Harry, keeping an eye on the Ministry and recruiting was all insignificant to the main question: what was Voldemort doing? And Snape was the only one who knew. Needless to say, it annoyed Sirius to no end.  
Snape dropped the bombshell right away. "He knows how to kill Potter."  
Remus immediately grabbed Sirius by the shoulder to stop him from lunging at Snape. The others showed similar signs of shock (except that they didn't want to take it out on Snape).  
"That is to say," Snape said, calmly, "he knows about the prophecy, and where to find it."  
"_How_?" Sirius bit.  
"One of his servants turned out to have a good memory." Snape cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "I believe his name was... Wormtail?"  
"How is he going to get to the prophecy?" Remus asked sharply, still holding Sirius back.  
Snape took one of the scrolls and unrolled it. It was a map of the Department of Mysteries, where important prophecies were stored. The prophecy they were talking about, was one made by Sybill Trelawney, concerning Harry and Voldemort. "Obviously," Snape said, "the Dark Lord can't walk into the Ministry himself, seeing as how many obstacles and people he'd have to pass." He followed the route on the map with one thin finger. "He isn't so foolish as to risk that."  
"But the Death Eaters - "Kingsley said. Snape nodded.  
"Indeed, but the Death Eaters. The prophecies will undoubtedly be guarded..." He trailed off, looking at Moody for confirmation.  
"Undoubtedly," Moody said, "but unfortunately even the guards are guarded. Only those working at the Department of Mysteries know." Snape's lips thinned with annoyance.  
"Right," he said. "Then there's no chance of us getting there before they do."  
"I think the prophecy will be safer there anyway," Bill said.  
"Nevertheless, we ought to prevent them from getting it, and Voldemort from hearing the final prophecy."  
There was an uncomfortable silence. Nobody wanted to admit it, but secretly everybody wanted to know what the prophecy really was about, what it said exactly. Dumbledore knew, but he wasn't telling anyone. Sirius knew too, but he remained as tight-lipped. Remus only knew the gist of it but not the exact wording. The rest only knew that 'it was about Harry and Voldemort and how to destroy them'.  
"We will set up sentries at the entrance to the Department of Mysteries," Kingsley said. "We won't have to watch Privet Drive anymore anyway."  
They all agreed with this plan and immediately drafted a first version of a schedule. After this, there was nothing left to say, so Snape made to leave. He never stayed longer than was necessary, and Sirius didn't bother to try and make him. Molly went upstairs to tell the children that the meeting was over while the rest had some last-minute discussions. They then went up the small staircase to the hall, lowering their voices to whispers.  
Remus and Sirius were the last in the single-file line. Sirius was trying to stay as far away from Snape as possible, looking darkly at the Potions Master annex spy.  
"Git," he muttered.  
"Pretty useful git, though," Remus noted. Sirius snorted.  
They gathered near the door, watching Snape fastening his cloak and telling Kingsley what to report to Dumbledore. Sirius still sulked.  
Remus was only half listening to what the rest was saying, when his attention was suddenly drawn by voices from upstairs. He looked at the old staircase, and saw, not really surprisingly, the children leaning over the banister, trying to hear what the grown-ups were saying. They didn't notice Remus looking.  
Only seconds later, however, the front door opened and more than half of the Order left. Sirius went down to the kitchen again, to wake Dung up (he'd fallen asleep halfway through the report of the Advance Guard and had therefore missed all the exciting news) while Remus, Tonks and Molly carefully locked the door. It was a complicated task.  
"We're eating down in the kitchen," Molly whispered to the children, who'd arrived down the stairs when they'd just finished. They began walking down the hall. "Harry, dear, if you'll just tiptoe across the hall it's through this door here -"  
Tonks spectacularly walked into the umbrella stand and crashed down.  
"_Tonks_!" Molly nearly shouted.  
"I'm sorry!" Tonks cried from the floor. "It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over -"The rest of her words were drowned in Mrs Black's unearthly screaming.  
They all reflexively clamped their hands over their ears. The curtains which were usually securely drawn over her portrait flew apart, revealing the portrait. She rolled her eyes dramatically, still holding on that high-pitched screaming. To make matters worse, the other portraits woke up too and joined her screaming, making the noise deafening.  
Remus thought his head would burst. He ran forward, together with Molly, and tried to draw the curtains shut, forcing himself to ignore the noise, which was all the worse so close to the portrait. Mrs Black tried to claw at their faces, but luckily she was only a portrait and she couldn't reach them. She could insult them, though.  
"_Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness_!" she shrieked. "_Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers -_"  
Molly gave up on forcing the curtains shut and began stunning the other portraits, gradually making the noise less and less deafening. Remus was unsure what to do now, but then Sirius arrived.  
"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" he roared, which wasn't really working. His mother paled.  
"_Yoooou_!" she screamed. "_'Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh_!"  
"I said - shut - _UP_!" Sirius shouted again. Remus gestured for him to get a move on, and they drew the curtains shut together. The screaming died away, and for a moment Remus thought he had gone deaf after all, it was so silent.  
Sirius turned to his Godson. "Hello, Harry," he said grimly, "I see you've met my mother."  
Harry seemed thunder-struck. "Your -?"  
"My dear old mum, yeah," said Sirius. "We've been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again."  
"But what's a portrait of your mother doing here?" Harry asked, as they all went down to the kitchen.  
"Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house," Sirius explained. "But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for Headquarters - about the only useful thing I've been able to do." Remus frowned at his friend's bitter tone.  
Arthur Weasley and Bill were still discussing something over the map. Arthur looked up as they came in. "Harry! Good to see you!" He shook Harry's hand.  
"Journey all right, Harry?" Bill added in the conversation, meanwhile trying to gather all twelve scrolls at once. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, then?"  
"He tried," Tonks answered for Harry. She stepped forward to help Bill and immediately upended a candle on the map. "Oh no - _sorry_ -"  
"Here, dear," Molly sighed, and she cleaned the candle away. She stuffed the map on the load of scrolls in her son's arms. "'This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings," she said sharply. She then went to make dinner as Bill cleaned everything away and the rest sat down.  
"Sit down, Harry," Sirius invited. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"  
The mention of his name woke Dung up. "Some'n say m'name?" he muttered, stilll half asleep. "I 'gree with Sirius..." He sleepily raised his hand.  
"The meeting's over, Dung," Sirius told him. "Harry's arrived."  
"Eh?" said Mundungus. He tried to focus his eyes on the boy. "Blimey, so 'e 'as. Yeah... you all right, 'Arry?"  
"Yeah," said Harry.  
"Owe you a 'pology," Dung mumbled. As he had lit his pipe and was obscured by a big cloud of greenish smoke, this was quite a strange experience.  
"For the last time, Mundungus," said Molly, "will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!"  
"Ah," said Dung. "Right. Sorry, Molly." He stuffed his pipe in his pocket. Remus wondered whether Dung would be on fire before the end of the evening.  
"And if you want dinner before midnight I'll need a hand," Molly continued. "No, you can stay where you are, Harry dear, you've had a long journey."  
"What can I do, Molly?" Tonks nearly skipped to the kitchen sink. Molly eyed her apprehensively. "  
Er - no, it's all right, Tonks, you have a rest too, you've done enough today."  
"No, no, I want to help!" Tonks insisted. Molly spluttered, but she let Tonks get the vegetables. At least they didn't break after falling down. They, Hermione and the other Weasley children were soon busy with making dinner. The rest remained at the table. Sirius was happily looking at Harry, having his godson finally near him. Harry was talking to Dung.  
"Seen old Figgy since?" Dung asked.  
"No," Harry answered, "I haven't seen anyone."  
"See, I wouldn't 'ave left," Dung pleaded, "but I 'ad a business opportunity -"He seemed anxious not to upset Harry too, like Dumbledore. Harry smiled forgivingly at him.  
Hermione's red cat jumped on Sirius' lap, and he scratched it behind the ears with a bony hand. "Had a good summer so far?" he asked of Harry.  
"No, it's been lousy," said Harry matter-of-factly.  
Sirius grinned. "Don't know what you're complaining about, myself."  
"_What_?" Harry said. Remus gave his friend a warning look, but of course Sirius ignored him.  
"Personally, I'd have welcomed a Dementor attack," he went on. "A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you've had it bad, at least you've been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights... I've been stuck inside for a month."  
"How come?" asked Harry.  
"Because the Ministry of Magic's still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless." Sirius sighed. "There's not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix... or so Dumbledore feels," he added gloomily.  
"At least you've known what's been going on," Harry said encouragingly.  
"Oh yeah," Sirius said sarcastically. "Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time... asking me how the cleanings going -"  
"What cleaning?" asked Harry.  
"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation," said Sirius. He indicated the kitchen and the entire house. "No one's lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist - hasn't cleaned anything in ages."  
"Sirius," interrupted Dung, holding one of the goblets Ginny had put on the table. "This solid silver, mate?"  
"Yes," said Sirius coolly, eyeing the goblet with distaste. "Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."  
"That'd come orf, though," was Dung's expert opinion. He rubbed the goblet with his sleeve. The conversation about silver goblets reminded Remus that he hadn't got his own cutlery, the one without silver, yet, and he got off his chair to get it.  
"Fred - George - NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Molly shouted, making them all jump.  
Fred and George had their wands out and pointed towards a cauldron with stew, a flagon with butterbeer and a breadboard flying towards the table. But instead of them going slowly and controlled, they hurtled through the air. The cauldron crashed on the table, barely keeping from falling off, the flagon spilled its contents everywhere and the bread knife would have impaled Sirius' hand had he not withdrawn it seconds before.  
"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" Molly screamed. "THERE WAS NO NEED - I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS - JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"  
"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" Fred said apologetically. He wrenched the knife out of the table. "Sorry, Sirius, mate - didn't mean to -"Sirius, being typically himself, was laughing, just as Harry. Dung swore as he got up again; his chair had toppled over.  
"Boys," Arthur said, "your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age -"  
"None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Molly scolded. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy -"She stopped dead in the middle of her sentence. There was a tense silence in the room.  
"Let's eat," said Bill quickly. Everybody agreed, and they sat down.  
"It looks wonderful, Molly," Remus complimented. He ladled stew on a plate and handed it to her, then passed the cauldron on.  
Nobody talked for a few minutes, they were too busy eating. Finally, the tension eased away and the talking began.  
Remus kept half an ear on Sirius, just in case anything was upsetting him again. Snape had the tendency to make it easier to upset Sirius. However, as Fred and George were sitting between them, he had no real chance of interfering.  
Arthur and Bill had come to talk of goblins. Bill knew a great deal about these creatures, having worked closely with them in Egypt. Dumbledore was trying to get the goblins on their side and had put Bill in charge of that. Arthur had just asked his son how things were going.  
"Not too smoothly," Bill said. "The problem with goblins is that they're incredibly evasive, especially towards humans. Understandably so, of course."  
"Yes, given the fact that we wizards have been exploiting them for centuries," Arthur nodded. "But what are they saying so far?"  
"They're not giving anything away yet," said Bill. "I still can't work out whether or not they believe he's back. Course, they might prefer not to take sides at all. Keep out of it."  
"I'm sure they'd never go over to You-Know-Who," said Arthur decidedly. "They've suffered losses too; remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham?"  
"I think it depends what they're offered," said Remus thoughtfully. "And I'm not talking about gold. If they're offered the freedoms we've been denying them for centuries they're going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Bill?"  
"He's feeling pretty anti-wizard at the moment," said Bill, "he hasn't stopped raging about the Bagman business, he reckons the Ministry did a cover-up, those goblins never got their gold from him, you know -"  
The conversation was paused for a moment because of a shout of laughter next to them. The twins, Ron and Dung appeared very amused over something. Something concerning toads Dung stole.  
"I don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings, thank you very much, Mundungus," Molly bit.  
"Beg pardon, Molly," Dung said. "But, you know, Will nicked 'em orf Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn't really doing nothing wrong."  
"I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seem to have missed a few crucial lessons," said Molly coldly.  
"Right," Bill said, glancing at his father. Arthur decided to make no comment, but picked up the conversation again.  
About an hour later, they'd gone from discussion goblins to Quidditch. Everybody was feeling comfortably sleepy.  
"Nearly time for bed, I think," Molly yawned.  
"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius came in. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."  
_Of course_, Remus thought. _Leave it to Sirius to start talking about that._ He put his goblet back on the table, ready to restrain Sirius if he got too enthusiastic.  
"I did!" said Harry. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so -"  
"And they're quite right," said Molly sharply. "You're too young."  
"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" asked Sirius. He sounded calm, but Remus knew better. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen -"  
"Hang on!" interrupted George.  
"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" his twin added.  
"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!"  
""You're too young, you're not in the Order,'" Fred imitated his mother. 'Harry's not even of age!'  
"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," said Sirius calmly, "that's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand -"  
"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" Molly snapped. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"  
"Which bit?" The tone of Sirius' voice was now definitely tense.  
"The bit about not telling Harry more _than he needs to know_," said Molly.  
Sirius' eyes narrowed. "I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly," he said. "But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back, he has more right than most to -"  
"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" Molly said hotly. "He's only fifteen and -"  
"And he's dealt with as much as most in the Order," said Sirius, "and more than some."  
"No one's denying what he's done!" Molly snapped. "But he's still -"  
"He's not a child!" said Sirius.  
"He's not an adult either!" said Molly. "He's not _James_, Sirius!"  
Remus did a sharp intake of breath. He was sure Sirius was going to snap at this. But no, his friend stayed calm - relatively speaking.  
"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly."  
"I'm not sure you are!" Molly said. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"  
"What's wrong with that?" Harry asked.  
"What's wrong, Harry -," she said, still looking fixedly at Sirius. She was really talking to him, and not to Harry. "- is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him! You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"  
"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?" said Sirius hotly. Remus very much wanted to interfere, but the argument went too fast.  
"Meaning you have been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and -"  
"We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!" said Sirius loudly.  
"Arthur!" said Molly, going for the last resort. "Arthur, back me up!"  
Arthur took his time. He carefully cleaned his glasses first, before saying: "Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in, to a certain extent, now that he is staying at Headquarters."  
"Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!"  
Remus took his chance. "Personally," he said quietly, carefully, "I think it better that Harry gets the facts - "Molly opened her mouth to protest, "not all the facts, Molly but the general picture - from us, rather than a garbled version from... others." He knew that the twins had their own way of finding things out. Very resourceful, very... Marauder.  
"Well," Molly said, trying to calm herself. "Well... I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart -"  
"He's not your son," said Sirius. Remus wanted to put his face in his hands. Sirius just couldn't stop arguing, could he?  
"He's as good as," Molly rose to the bait. "Who else has he got?"  
"He's got me!"  
"Yes," she said. Remus suddenly noticed that her expression was scarily close to Snape's. "The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"  
Sirius couldn't contain himself any longer. He got out of his chair, an angry scowl on his face.  
"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," Remus interrupted, nearly getting up too. "Sirius, sit _down_." Amazingly enough, Sirius did so.  
"I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Remus added, "he's old enough to decide for himself."  
Of course: "I want to know what's been going on," said Harry decidedly.  
"Very well," Molly said, breathing through her nose. "Ginny - Ron - Hermione - Fred - George - I want you out of this kitchen, _now_."  
This order was not greeted with enthusiasm.  
"We're of age!" Fred and George immediately said.  
"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" came Ron.  
"Mum, I _want_ to hear!" was his sister's plead.  
"NO!" Their mother was inexorable. "I absolutely forbid -"  
"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," Arthur sighed. "They are of age."  
"They're still at school."  
"But they're legally adults now," Arthur said in a tone that suggested he didn't like it. Molly didn't seem to like it either.  
"I - oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron -"  
"Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" said Ron quickly. "Won't - won't you?"  
"Course I will," Harry said. Hermione and Ron beamed. Molly now looked really angry.  
"Fine!" she shouted. "Fine! Ginny - BED!"  
"_What_?" the youngest Weasley shouted. But there was nothing to be done. Protesting and scolding, Ginny was shooed out of the kitchen, stamping her way up the stairs. Her raging woke Mrs Black up. Sirius sighed and gestured to Remus in a silent 'could you..?' Remus nodded and went upstairs, to the noise, trying to ignore the '_abomination! Filth_!'-comments thrown at him.  
The kitchen was oddly silent when he returned. Sirius waited until Remus had sat down, before he said: "OK, Harry ... what do you want to know?" 

End of part one.


	5. Harry part two

**Second part.**

'Where's Voldemort?' Harry said immediately. "What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news, and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything."  
"That's because there haven't been any funny deaths yet," said Sirius calmly, "not as far as we know, anyway ... and we know quite a lot."  
"More than he thinks we do, anyway," Remus added. It got him a smile from Sirius.  
"How come he's stopped killing people?" Harry asked, frowning.  
"Because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself," Sirius explained. 'It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."  
"Or rather, you messed it tip for him," Remus corrected, smiling.  
"How?" Harry pulled up both his eyebrows.  
"You weren't supposed to survive!" said Sirius proudly. It sounded as if it was all thanks to Sirius. "Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."  
"And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore," Remus added. "And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once."  
"How has that helped?" Harry asked, still not understanding.  
"Are you kidding?" Bill said. He had a look of incredulity on his face. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of!"  
"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned," said Sirius, nodding.  
"So, what's the Order been doing?" was Harry's next question. He looked at each of them in turn.  
"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," said Sirius. Remus nodded his approval - a good answer without giving too much away.  
"How d'you know what his plans are?" Harry asked.  
"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea," Remus said, "and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate." Sirius smiled somewhat wryly.  
"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?" Harry naturally wanted to know.  
"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again," said Sirius. "In the old days he had huge numbers at his command: witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one of the groups he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."  
"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?"  
"We're doing our best," said Remus.  
"How?"  
"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard," Bill explained. "It's proving tricky, though."  
"Why?" Harry's vocabulary seemed to have been reduced to one-syllable words, Remus noted, grinning. He had a feeling Sirius had noticed it too; he had that peculiar 'trying not to laugh'-expression.  
"Because of the Ministry's attitude," Tonks added to the conversation. "You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know-Who came back, Harry. Well, he hasn't shifted his position at all. He's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened."  
"But _why_?" Harry nearly pleaded. "Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore -"  
"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," Arthur said, smiling wryly. "_Dumbledore_."  
"Fudge is frightened of him, you see," explained Tonks.  
"Frightened of Dumbledore?" said Harry. He sounded as if he didn't believe it one bit.  
"Frightened of what he's up to," Arthur corrected. "Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister for Magic."  
"But Dumbledore doesn't want -"Harry began.  
"Of course he doesn't," Arthur interrupted. "He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job."  
"Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice," Remus added to Arthur's answer. "But it seems he's become fond of power, and much more confident. He loves being Minister for Magic and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."  
"How can he think that?" said Harry angrily. "How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up - that I'd make it all up?"  
"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," said Sirius. He was now far from laughing. He had a personal thing against Fudge and the Ministry. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilise him."  
"You see the problem," Remus nodded. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumour-mongering, so most of the wizarding community are completely unaware any things happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."  
"But you're telling people, aren't you?" said Harry urgently, looking around at the Order-members present. "You're letting people know he's back?"  
They all smiled wryly. If only it was that simple.  
"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass-murderer and the Ministry's put a ten thousand Galleon price on my head," Sirius said, fidgeting with his goblet, "I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?"  
Remus gave a weak smile. "And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," he said with a feeling for understatement. "It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf."  
"Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off," Sirius added, "and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."  
"We've managed to convince a couple of people, though," Arthur said so that it wouldn't seem like a completely hopeless case. "Tonks here, for one - she's too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage - Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset, too; he's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."  
Remus looked at Sirius at the same moment Sirius was looking at him. Both fought back a grin - it had been Sirius' idea to pretend he was in Tibet.  
"But if none of you are putting the news out that Voldemorts back -"Harry began.  
"Who said none of us are putting the news out?" interrupted Sirius. "Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?"  
"What d'you mean?"  
"They're trying to discredit him," said Remus with a small sigh. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true; he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemorts return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot - that's the Wizard High Court - and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."  
"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog Cards," said Bill. He grinned; typically Dumbledore.  
"It's no laughing matter," his father said sharply. "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this he could end up in Azkaban, and the last thing we want is to have Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to he's going to go cautiously. If Dumbledore's out of the way - well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."  
"But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more Death Eaters it's bound to get out that he's come back, isn't it?" asked Harry. He looked at his Godfather as he asked it, and Sirius answered.  
"Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry," he said. He narrowed his eyes, remembered certain people he had known. Or thought he did at least. "He tricks, jinxes and blackmails them. He's well-practised at operating in secret. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in. He's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on those for the moment."  
"What's he after apart from followers?" Harry asked. The question was a natural follow-up to what Sirius had just said.  
Sirius glanced at Remus, for a moment unsure what to say. The truth? Tell him about the prophecy? But Remus shook his head almost unnoticeably. _Tell him only what he needs to know_, he thought. _And even then, tell him even half of that. _  
"Stuff he can only get by stealth," answered Sirius evasively. When he saw that Harry didn't understand, he added: "like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."  
"When he was powerful before?" Harry asked, just to be sure.  
"Yes."  
"Like what kind of weapon?" said Harry. Remus began to fear the boy was incurably curious. "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra -?"  
"That's enough!"  
They all jumped. Molly had come back from taking Ginny upstairs, but none of them had noticed. She looked livid.  
"I want you in bed, now," she commanded. "All of you." She glared at the children.  
"You can't boss us -"Fred protested, but his mother interrupted.  
"Watch me," she threatened. She looked at Sirius, ready for another row. "You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway."  
"Why not?" said Harry quickly, eagerly. "I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight."  
Remus looked quickly at Sirius. His friend didn't seem to have any real objection to the idea. "No," he said. Sirius turned to look at him, a bit curiously.  
"The Order is comprised only of overage wizards," Remus said. He was speaking to Sirius as well as to the children. The Weasley twins opened their mouths to protest, and he added, a hint of sharpness in his voice: "wizards who have left school. There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you..." Sirius nodded slightly, seeing sense. "I think Molly's right, Sirius," Remus told him. "We've said enough."  
Sirius didn't object. As happened more often lately, he accepted Remus' judgement.  
"Now, bed," Molly said sternly. Realising that the question-and-answer session was really over, the children obliged meekly.

* * *

"D'you think that we've, perhaps, said too much?"  
"No, I think we've said just enough."  
"Hmm." Sirius pensively curled a strand of hair around his fingers. "I did nearly tell him about the prophecy, though."  
"And good thing you didn't. Harry can do without such a thing troubling his mind." Remus was leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, the room that was once occupied by Sirius' father. Sirius was staying in his mother's room. The good part of having these two bedrooms was that you could stand on the landing and talk while standing in the doorframe, as if leaning over a back fence. Indoor-neighbours.  
"Do you think Harry will ever join the Order?" Sirius asked curiously.  
"If Voldemort's still around when he leaves school, I don't think we can stop him," Remus smiled. "Besides, this is _Harry Potter_, remember? It's pretty much expected of him."  
"Yeah. Hey, if Harry... if Harry does get kicked out of school, d'you reckon Dumbledore will let him stay here?"  
Remus' expression was between frowning and smiling. "If I say yes, will you start wishing he gets kicked out of school?"  
Sirius pulled a face. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course not."  
There was silence for a moment. Sirius kept curling and uncurling the lock of hair. Inside, in his bedroom, Buckbeak was grunting in his sleep. Letting the hippogriff stay here had been another step in the Sirius-Kreacher war. Sirius had insisted on having the animal in the luxurious and above all very _white_ room. Cream-coloured carpets and hippogriffs don't agree, and the floor had been ruined in minutes. Kreacher had had to be pushed out of the room kicking and screaming, hurling insults to Sirius about being a disgrace and what his mother would say. Of course, this had only encouraged Sirius further. He was set on turning his mother's bedroom into a stable.  
"Hey Remus," he now broke the silence.  
"Hm?"  
"Do you..." Sirius trailed of uncertainly. "Do you reckon I think... that Harry is, you know... James?"  
"Of course not," Remus said firmly. "You're not that insane."  
Sirius smiled, reassured. Perhaps he wasn't insane, but he did seem very lonely.  
"You know, I'll try and come home more often," Remus promised.  
"You don't have to," Sirius said, smiling at this 'home'. "Really. I mean, Harry's here now too..."  
Remus frowned. _Even if you're not thinking he's James, you_ are_ clinging to him a great deal_, he thought. But he didn't say it. He thought that Sirius had had enough arguments today.  
"I'm going to bed," he announced. "Busy day tomorrow."  
"Yes," Sirius sighed. "We're going to clean the drawing room. Yippee."  
"Oh, cheer up," Remus said bracingly. "I'm sure it won't be that bad."  
"We'll see," Sirius answered darkly.  
Remus smiled a bit weakly and made to walk into his room. He turned around again after a few steps. "By the way, have you seen Monster lately?"  
"No, but I'm sure he'll pop up again soon," Sirius said. "He always does. And if Kreacher murdered him, I'll hit him."  
"Thanks - I guess," Remus grinned.  
"Night, Remus."  
"G'night."

* * *

**Pffff...**  
Now, was that long or was that long? I thought it was long. Stupid Jo for writing so much...  
To anybody speaking Spanish; I wrote that one line with the help of an online dictionary, so any mistakes are all my fault. Snape really can speak Spanish. Or at least enough to correct Sirius!  
Is anybody else getting REALLY annoyed with Molly, btw? I sure am. I didn't really like her in OotP anyway, but she's always nagging Sirius and arguing with him - and that comment about Azkaban! Can you say WAY out of line?! That's Snapish! Not kind, motherly Molly!  
Hmm, anything else to say about the chapter...? Not that I can really think of, at the moment...

Review! Please...


	6. Secrets and Hearings

**August 11/12, 1995.**

"_Good luck. I'm sure it will be fine."_

* * *

Sirius' good spirits stayed until at least four days after Harry had arrived, which was a new record since they'd come to live at Grimmauld Place. He finally had his Godson around and that made even cleaning the house bearable. It was a good thing, Remus thought, since he himself wasn't around much. A bit unsure what to do with Voldemort not out in the open, he had taken to going to the Ministry with Kingsley everyday, passing the time at the Auror's office until it was time for his guard duty at the Department of Mysteries. Odd as it may sound, he liked the situation during the first war better. At least then they had something to do instead of walking around on tip-toe, careful not to get noticed by anyone.

Adding to their troubles was Harry's upcoming hearing. Both Remus and Sirius had gone to the extensive Black library the evening after Harry had come to Grimmauld Place, and they had researched various books about wizard law. Remus had done it mainly to reassure Sirius and to put his friend at ease, but he couldn't deny feeling rather relieved himself when they found out that there was no real ground for expulsion. Harry was allowed to use magic in self-defence, which had been the case.

"So try as they may," Sirius summarised, "they can't make Harry anything."

"And they certainly can't make him leave Hogwarts."

"Quite right."

Sirius leaned against one of the bookcases, having just put one of the law-books back. The flickering light of the candles cast shadows on his cheeks which were still too hollow for Remus' taste.

"Hey Moony," he said hesitantly.

"Hm?"

"There's something I need to tell you..."

Remus looked up from his book, alarmed. Sirius' tone did not hint at good news. "What?"

"It's about Monster. You see – "Sirius suddenly began rattling to get the difficult subject out of the way, "– Molly was cleaning out the drawing room this morning, and she was sweeping under the sofa, when she found, uhm. A nest of dead Puffskeins."

Remus looked horrified. "Was Monster one of them?"

"I couldn't really see," Sirius said somewhat lamely. "They looked as if they'd been dead for quite some time, and, well, Monster's been gone for more than a week now. And they were all custard-coloured..."

Remus got up and began pacing. "What happened to them?"

"Molly threw them away before I could interfere," Sirius said.

"She threw away my _pet_!" Remus now definitely sounded agitated. After a moment of thinking: "and what a stupid way to die too!"

"I know." Sirius patted his friend's back. "I know."

"And now I don't have anyone to feed my breadcrusts to." Remus let himself be patted. He couldn't really comprehend what he had just been told. "He was a gift from _Hagrid_."

"Sorry."

"And he helped me fix a childhood trauma too."

Sirius had been sympathetic until this point – he now burst into laughing. He tried to force himself to calm down. "Sorry," he hiccoughed, "but that just came out... weird..."

"It's no laughing matter," Remus said, trying not to join in Sirius' infectious laughing. "It's true."

"Deeply sorry," Sirius said, his breath wheezy for laughing. "My condolences. Let's go downstairs, drink Firewhiskey and forget this sad, sad matter."

Remus sighed. "I suppose so. And don't go telling me I should just buy a new one."

"Of course not. That would be impossible, since he was one of a kind."

"Indeed."

* * *

Fortunately, Remus was quite busy the next days, because it put his mind off his lost pet. Not only was he busy with Order meetings and guard duty, but he also once helped Molly, Sirius and the children repair a grandfather clock that had developed a nasty habit: shooting bolts at unsuspecting passers-by. Sirius had found it out after it had nearly beheaded him.

The respite was only short, however. The day before Harry's hearing, another mystery was added to the ones already troubling Remus.

He had once again followed Kingsley to the Auror Headquarters, although he wasn't really sure why. He had guard duty again this evening, but he wasn't looking forward to it. He'd much rather stay at Grimmauld Place to ease Sirius' mind for tomorrow. But duty interfered.

They just got out of the golden-grilled elevator on the second floor when someone leaped on Remus from behind and wrapped himself around him.

"Thank Merlin, you're alive!"

Remus spluttered and wrestled himself free. He turned around. Romulus, now officially declared the most annoying younger brother in all of Great Britain, beamed at him.

"Romulus!"

"Where _were_ you?!" Romulus shook his elder brother gently. "We've been looking all over for you. Mum's turned your house upside down because she was sure she'd find you bound, gagged and murdered in the cellar. We haven't heard from you for _ages_. And suddenly you turn up here, in the Ministry, in the company of – of –" Romulus only now realised who was standing next to Remus, "– Kingsley Shaklebolt?"

"Friend of yours?" Kingsley inquired.

"My brother," Remus said. He glared at Romulus.

"He looks like you," was Kingsley's comment.

"If only," Remus sighed dramatically. Romulus put a hand on his heart.

"Really," he said, "I'm hurt. Is that the way you talk about your beloved brother?"

"Looks like it, doesn't it?"

"Anyway, as I was ranting – _where_ were you? I haven't seen you all summer, not since May. That's not like you. And the last thing I heard anything about you was when Mum came over last June and thought you were – "

"Yes, okay, I know," Remus interrupted loudly. What was it with relatives and spilling things you wanted to keep private?

"So you're not?"

"Not what?"

"Gay?"

Remus flinched. He turned to Kingsley. "Do you have brothers?"

"Only elder sisters," the Auror said. "I think I should be thankful for that." The corners of his mouth twitched.

"You remember that time," Remus asked Romulus, "when you were three and I was six and I put you upside down in the waste bin because I wanted to get rid of you?"

"Vividly."

"I could do it again."

"I think I should get to work," Kingsley interrupted. He left, rather hurriedly, Remus thought.

"Speaking of work," he said. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Long story," Romulus answered. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Probably an equally long story."

Romulus took his brother by the shoulder and turned him slightly away from the elevators, creating a sense of secrecy. "Remus, there's something I need to tell you."

"Is it important?"

"Pretty much."

"Julia's not having another baby, is she?" Remus frowned.

Romulus rolled his eyes. "What do we look like? A pair of fu – err, a pair of rabbits?"

"You wanted to say fucking rabbits," Remus pointed out, grinning. "How appropriate."

His brother scowled. "Not funny. And not true either. It's something completely unrelated."

"What?"

Romulus looked around, a bit nervously. It only increased Remus' curiosity. "I can't tell you here. Can I meet you... tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow I'm busy. Day after that?"

"Sure. You know, uhm, that old cafe in Diagon Alley, next to Flourish and Blotts?"

"Of course."

"See you there at three?"

"Sure. But don't you have highly important Ministry work to do then?"

"No, we're not particularly busy at the moment." Romulus took a deep breath, as if he was bracing himself for something, but only added; "at this time of the month."

"Okay. See you on Friday, then."

"Yeah, see you then."

"And be there. Or I'll send Aurors with big dogs to go and look for you."

Remus rolled his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere, trust me. Now go work."

He showed his brother off to the elevators, then walked through the Auror's Headquarters to Kingsley's cubicle.

* * *

Hours later, he was still at the Ministry, but now on the lowest level, the ninth. He sat wrapped in Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak on the floor. He was completely alone.

Of course, he could stand being alone. He had been alone for most of the past, well, decade. And he hadn't been a very social person before that either.

But there was something very spooky to the Department of Mysteries. The long corridor leading towards it was lit by torches which cast a flickering, eerie light. Although he had stood guard here several times for six hours at a time, Remus had never before seen anyone here. It was so quiet that he could hear himself breathe. After a few hours, the long, dark corridor, with no exit in sight from where he was sitting, always gave him a feeling of being trapped, of being buried. The rest of the Ministry – the rest of the _world_ for that matter – didn't seem to exist down here.

It gave him plenty of time to think. About what was behind the door behind his back – _mysteries? What kind of mysteries? _– about Sirius, Harry, Voldemort. About the prophecy. And he occasionally tried to imagine what the world would be like after this war. Who would be dead and who would be left to mourn them? Would Harry meet the same fate as his parents? Would he himself be still alive then..?

He was always glad when, after six hours, the next person came to relief him of his guard duty.

* * *

_Gloomy_. That was the atmosphere in Grimmauld Place when Remus arrived there around a quarter past twelve. Almost everybody had gone to bed, except Molly Weasley. She was rummaging about in the kitchen, trying to pretend she wasn't worried.

"Where is everybody?" he asked. He began making himself some sandwiches.

She distractedly stroked a lock of red hair behind her ear. Her forehead had lines it hadn't had a couple of months ago. "The children are in bed," she said. She took the cheese out of the fridge for him and continued: "Kingsley Shacklebolt has stopped by for a few minutes too but he's gone home. Sirius is upstairs, but I don't think he's sleeping yet."

"I hope nothing serious happened?" Remus inquired. "Especially a with certain someone?"

"He's finally seen sense," Molly said darkly. "Now he's trying to get some sympathy by acting the poor beaten dog."

_Interesting metaphor_, Remus thought, but he thought it wiser not to say it.

"I'm sure everything will work out fine," he said, patting her shoulder.

"I don't know," she sighed. "Sometimes it feels like having another teenager in the house."

"Sirius can sometimes give you that feeling," Remus admitted, "but he really cares about Harry, and he's trying to express it. Sadly, it's in a way that's not really useful right now."

"See, you understand," she said. "The rest is just trying to... to _vilify _me!"

"Nobody's trying to vilify you," he shushed. "Everybody's just anxious because of Harry's hearing and because we don't know what Voldemort's up to. Now – "He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder again, "– I'm going to see what Sirius is up to, I'll probably have to tie him down to get him to calm down, but that's a risk I'll have to take."

Molly smiled weakly. "If only tomorrow's over," she said.

"Exactly. That's the spirit."

* * *

It turned out that Remus didn't need to tie Sirius down. Amazingly enough, his friend was rather calm and collected. He just couldn't sleep. Inconveniently enough, he showed this by pacing around Remus' room so that Remus couldn't sleep either. He continuously drifted in and out of sleep, and every time he opened his eyes Sirius had moved to another spot.

Around five in the morning, Sirius couldn't contain himself any longer. He shook Remus, who had just fallen asleep again.

"Wake up," he said. "C'mon Moony, wake up."

"Whatizzit?" Remus asked blearily. "Hearing already begun?"

"No, not for another four hours. Want to come down for breakfast?"

Remus glared as best as he could with a sleep-heavy head. Because he had only slept for short periods of time, he felt more tired stepping out of bed than in it. Sirius looked no better: his already hollow eyes had dark shadows under it.

"Oh how I hate you," Remus said, "let me count the ways."

"No time for that, c'mon."

Ten minutes later, they were downstairs, in the kitchen. Arthur and Molly Weasley were already there, just like Tonks. Molly was making a large pot of coffee, although she didn't look as though she'd need it; she seemed wide awake.

Tonks yawned widely as she greeted the two new-comers. "M-morning," she said. "Sorry. Been up all night."

"'s okay," Sirius said. He sat himself down and accepted a mug of coffee. "We haven't slept either."

"I have," Remus said gruffly. "But you kept waking me up." He held his mug under his nose, hoping that the mere scents of the boiling hot coffee would bring him to full conscience.

"How was everything at the Ministry?" Arthur asked Tonks. She stifled another yawn before she said: "alright. Nothing really important happened, I think. We spend most time just walking about and doing paperwork." She yawned again. It made Remus want to do the same, but he managed to control himself.

"Nothing fishy?" Sirius inquired as Molly sat herself down with her own mug of coffee.

"No, not really. Or, wait – there was this Auror, Scrimgeour – "

The door opened, and Harry came in. Molly immediately jumped to her feet.

"Breakfast," she said. She pulled out her wand and summoned the necessary things.

Sirius didn't jump to his feet or show any visible signs of nervosity, but Remus could feel his friend tense.

"M – m – morning, Harry," Tonks said. She yawned widely. "Sleep all right?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"I've b – b – been up all night." As if this wasn't clear enough, she yawned again. "Come and

sit down..." She drew out a chair, and with doing so knocked down another.

"What do you want, Harry?" Mrs Weasley asked, impossibly awake and busy. "Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?"

"Just – just toast, thanks," said Harry. He seemed to be wanting to be somewhere else.

Remus decided to continue the conversation, to assume something of normalcy. To avoid thinking of the hearing. "What were you saying about Scrimgeour?" he asked Tonks.

"Oh... yeah..." she said. "Well, we need to be a bit more careful, he's been asking Kingsley

and me funny questions... and I'll have to tell Dumbledore I can't do night duty tomorrow, I'm just t – t – too tired." Tonks yawned, she just couldn't help herself.

"I'll cover for you," Arthur promised. "I'm OK, I've got a report to finish anyway..." Tonks nodded sleepily. Arthur turned to Harry. The boy now had a plate with marmalade-covered toast in front of him, but he had only taken one small bite.

"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked. Harry shrugged. "It'll all be over soon," Arthur told him bracingly. "In a few hours' time you'll be cleared." Harry still didn't say anything. "The hearing's on my floor, in Amelia Bones's office," Arthur continued. "She's Head of the

Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the one who'll be questioning you."

"Amelia Bones is OK, Harry," said Tonks. "She's fair, she'll hear you out."

Harry nodded, still wordlessly.

"Don't lose your temper," said Sirius suddenly. "Be polite and stick to the facts." Remus looked at his friend. _How much of this advice came from your own experience? _he wondered.

Harry nodded again.

"The law's on your side," Remus added quietly to the other's words. "Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations."

Molly Weasley had made a comb wet and was trying to straighten Harry's hair. "Doesn't it ever lie flat?" she asked, forcing the comb through Harry's hair. The boy shook his head.

Arthur checked his watch. "I think we'll go now," he said. "We're a bit early but I think you'll be better off at the Ministry than hanging around here."

"OK," said Harry. He got to his feet, the plate with toast forgotten.

"You'll be all right, Harry," said Tonks reassuringly, and patted him on the arm.

"Good luck," Remus said. "I'm sure it will be fine."

"And if it's not, I'll see to Amelia Bones for you..." came Sirius. Remus gave his friend a reprimanding glare, but Sirius didn't see it – or pretended to.

For the first time this morning, Harry smiled, albeit weakly. Molly gave him a motherly hug. "We've all got our fingers crossed," she said.

"Right," said Harry when she had let go. "Well... see you later then." He walked out of the kitchen, and shortly after that Remus heard the front door close. Harry was gone.

"I'll just go to bed, then," Tonks yawned. She put her words into action right away.

"What are you going to do?" Sirius asked Remus. Remus shrugged.

"Don't know. Stay here, I think." After a moment of silence: "and you?"

Sirius made a sound between a snort and a laugh. "Same."

Silence.

They had all sat down again. Molly was fidgeting with the cuff of her dressing gown. Sirius continuously turned his mug around and around. Remus stared blankly at the wall opposite him, picking the rim of his nails. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed awfully loud.

After half an hour of this, Sirius got abruptly to his feet and walked to the door.

"Where are you going?" Remus asked.

"To the library."

_What, voluntarily? _said the voice in Remus' head that sometimes spoke with Snape's voice. He had a moment of debate about whether he was going to stay with Molly or go after Sirius, but he decided to do the latter. Molly could manage herself, and he wanted to know what Sirius was up to.

Apparently, Sirius had decided to pull all the books out again and check if the law hadn't changed in the past days. Remus waited in the doorframe for his friend to speak.

"You are absolutely sure there isn't some loophole they can catch him with?" Sirius asked. He was leafing through a book as he spoke.

"Absolutely sure," Remus said. He came to stand next to Sirius. "Clause Seven of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery makes it very clear that he was allowed, and pretty much ordered, to use magic to save his life."

"Good," said Sirius restlessly. "Harry _will _go to Hogwarts."

"Yes."

"Fudge can't stop him."

"Fudge can't make him anything, unless he ignores the law, which he can't possibly do."

"Good. You worried?"

"Not really. Not for expulsion anyway."

"No, me neither." Sirius laughed. "After all, what can they do to him?"

And he began pacing again.

* * *

Of course, all this fretting and worrying turned out to be in vain. As usual, afterwards nobody really understood why they had been so nervous – it was obvious the Wizengamot hadn't had a leg to stand on.

Arthur had dropped Harry off around noon. The Weasleys had positively jumped on him.

"I knew it!" yelled Ron. He punched the air as though he had just won a Quidditch match. "You always get away with stuff!"

"They were bound to clear you," chimed in Hermione. The colour was slowly coming back in her face, which had looked sickly pale all morning. "There was no case against you, none at all."

"Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering you all knew I'd get off," Remus heard Harry say. He grinned; it was all too true.

Molly was wiping her tears of joy on her apron. The twins and Ginny could apparently only vent their happiness with noise: they were dancing around the kitchen, chanting "_he got off, he got off, he got off..._"

"That's enough! Settle down!" Arthur tried to calm his children, although he seemed to say it more for show than because he meant it. Sirius looked ready to join the chanting, until Arthur adressed him.

"Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry –"

"What?" said Sirius, grin gone. Remus immediately switched his attention to the conversation, although it was hard to hear through the noise.

"He _got off, he got off, he got off ..."_

"Be quiet, you three!" Arthur said again. "Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on Level Nine," he continued, "then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know."

"Absolutely," Sirius assured him. "We'll tell him, don't worry."

"Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet waiting for me in Bethnal Green. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner –"

"He got _off, he got off, he got off ..."_

"That's enough – Fred – George – Ginny!" Molly snapped, but to no avail.

The lunch was messier and noisier than Remus had never seen at Grimmauld Place, but it was also the most cheerful one. Fred, George and Ginny never stopped singing, now not only out of joy but also to annoy their mother. Sirius wore the stupidest grin on his face, looking proudly at Harry.

"Of course he'd get off," he said.

"Naturally," Remus replied, smiling himself.

"No doubt about it."

"Not a chance in the world that he wouldn't."

"Wouldn't dream of it, that he wouldn't."

"Of course not."

"Fudge didn't have a leg to stand on."

"Sirius, eat something before you faint," Remus said, ladling food on his friend's plate. But Sirius was too giddy to eat anything.

"I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening, to celebrate with us, you know," they heard Ron cheerfully tell Harry through the twin's singing.

"I don't think he'll be able to, Ron," his mother said. She put a plate of roast chicken down on the table and shot an annoyed look at the twins and Ginny. "He's really very busy at the moment."

"HE _GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF._"

"SHUT UP!"


	7. Romulus's unpleasant surprise and Hday

**My apologies in advance for the Hermione/Remus debate. I got out of hand. Turned out my Ethics class was at least good for _something..._ **

**

* * *

Late August/early September 1995.**

"_Well, look after yourselves. You too, Harry. Be careful." _

* * *

Books. Is there anything better than books? The feeling of new a dustjacket, the weight of a thick tome with unknown stories and adventures in your hand, the peculiar scent of the fresh pages which can only be described as _papery_. 

Remus was relishing this very thing while standing in front of Flourish and Blotts, looking at the books on display. Well, maybe he wasn't so much relishing it as imagining it, but he'd done it so often it was pretty much the same thing.

"_Back to school?" _a huge, colourful advertisement blared. _"Buy your Hogwarts books here!" _Under the advertisement, they had put all the curricular books on display, with the other things the students would need – quills, parchment, notebooks, agendas and the like –

tastefully placed between and on the books. The books themselves ranged from Potions books for first years (Remus briefly wondered whether Snape had ever changed the books he used in all those years he had been teaching) to the six books used for seventh-year Advanced Muggle Studies.

Defence Against the Dark Arts wasn't among them.

They had done a good job of concealing it, Remus noted. No gaping holes – you really had to look for it to miss it. You really had to be a nutty ex-teacher, still protective of your subject even after two years, to see it. Remus noticed it immediately.

He knew why, of course. He had been nagging Dumbledore enough about it to know. The books were always assigned by the teacher teaching that particular subject. Dumbledore hadn't been able to find one for Defence Against the Dark Arts. It wasn't so much that he couldn't find anybody who suited him. There were plenty of people he could have asked. Remus would've been happy to come back to Hogwarts, one of the Aurors would be qualified as well, and even Mad-Eye Moody might be persuaded. But the School Board and the Ministry disagreed with the Headmaster. All his suggestions had been turned down, even the less outlandish ones. Perhaps they were afraid he was going to turn up with another 'Hagrid'. But secretly, everybody knew they turned everybody down just to oppose Dumbledore. And now, almost three weeks before the beginning of the school year, there was still one teacher missing, and exactly the one for the subject the Order feared the students were going to need the most.

Remus sighed deeply, leaving a circle of condensation on the window. He looked up, and saw his brother reflected next to him in the window.

"And what are you so terribly sad about, pray tell?" Romulus asked.

"Everything," Remus sighed. "The entire world. Trees dying. Umbridge being alive. You realise how very unfair that is, that she is alive while there are trees, actually _useful _beings, being killed?"

Romulus patted his shoulder. "Remus, dear brother, I hate to break it to you, but you really are an unbelievable nutcase."

"Doesn't that make you a nutcase too?" Remus wondered.

"What, purely by association or something?"

"Because we're related."

"Ah, no, not at all." Romulus had that twinkling in his eyes that told Remus there was a weird theory with inimitable logic coming up. "Me being a nutcase simply because I'm related to you would assume that there are things like nutcase-genes. Statistically speaking, it would be impossible that we were the only two in our family with what I'll call the nutcase-syndrome. Now, let's see..." He began ticking it off on his fingers. "My children don't seem to have it. Then again, perhaps they got just the good looks from me and their brains from their mother."

Remus gave a huge fake cough at this arrogant statement.

"While I can't deny that our beloved father isn't the most normal person around," Romulus continued, "it's not as bad as you are. You stand here pining away looking at _school books_ while everybody sane is at Quality Quidditch Supplies, drooling over the newest brooms."

"Like that's a sane thing to do."

"It's saner than looking at schoolbooks when you graduated nearly twenty years ago. Now, Mum's not a nutcase either – and even if she was I wouldn't say it because, as you know, mums find out everything. Which leaves you."

"But perhaps," Remus objected, "I wasn't born a nutcase, but became one."

"Nurture versus nature."

"Exactly."

"You know, I still think your logic is somehow flawed..." Remus said pensively. "I just can't be bothered to find out how. Let's go drink tea."

His brother clapped him on the shoulder. "Spoken like a true Lupin."

They went into the cafe next to the bookshop. It wasn't as old and dingy as the Leaky Cauldron, and it certainly was much cleaner. An old witch was standing behind the counter, while a wizard, presumably her husband, was continuously cleaning glasses. Two young witches were waiting tables, and it was with one of them that the Lupins ordered tea. It was brought to them five minutes later.

Teabag, sugar, spoon – they did all this in silence. It was only when he had prepared his cup, that Remus said: "so. There was something you wanted to tell me?"

"Hmm," Romulus said. He suddenly sounded evasive. He kept his eyes fixed on his cup as he stirred his tea. Remus waited patiently.

"Be honest," Romulus said, still looking at his tea. "Would you ever hate me?"

"Depends on what you've done, I suppose."

"You see, I've been promoted..."

Remus cocked his head. "Should I hate you for that?"

"Well, I haven't exactly _been_ promoted. There was a job offering, I applied and I got accepted," Romulus continued. He seemed to brace himself for something. "At the Werewolf Registry."

Remus disbelievingly raised both his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Actually," Romulus said, still avoiding his brother's eyes, "it's at the Werewolf Capture Unit."

"_What?_"

"It's not what you think," the younger man immediately began pleading. Remus cut him off.

"Not what I think? What I think?" he said hotly. "You have _no_ idea what I'm thinking right now. For God's sake, Romulus! The bloody Werewolf _Capture _Unit? How can you even bare working with those people? You might as well take me to Azkaban right away!" He demonstratively stuck out his hands and snarled: "Go on! Put me into chains. It's your job now, after all."

Romulus looked so sad and so sorry that Remus calmed down a bit. "Utter bastard," he said. "Why? I thought that you of all people wouldn't want to work there. Congratulations, you're now supposed to arrest your own brother. And not in the nicest possible way either, from what I've heard."

"Only if you... misbehave," Romulus said weakly.

"Spare me the details, I already know too much about that. Did you know the Capture Unit has been allowed to kill werewolves if there's no other way?"

"I know, Remus, I _know_. Listen, I'll tell you why I did it."

"You'd better have a damn good reason."

"I think I have. Listen. You know I used to work at the Department for the Control of Experimental Breeding, and I was always running around telling people off for inventing new creatures. To tell you the truth, it got boring."

"So you decided to go and capture werewolves," Remus added dully.

"No! At least, not like that. Listen, please. When you work at the Ministry, you... hear things. Stories from other Departments. I often heard people from the Capture Unit boast about how they had captured this-and-that werewolf, or did they remember that one werewolf there-and-there, and recalling how brave they had been. It sounded as if they were merely catching animals, instead of people. And I know you, obviously, and werewolves are not animals, but they didn't seem to realise, and it irked me. So I decided to apply for a job there, to... I don't know, to actually help the werewolves, and not hurt them. And hopefully change the other's point of view too."

"Lousy idea," was Remus' conclusion. "No, wait, let me rephrase that. The idea in itself is... nice, thoughtful and flattering. But the way you'd thought you'd do it is horrible and your way of telling me is even worse. It sounds like... a vegetarian becoming a butcher to help the poor animals! Romulus, how could you even _think_ it would help? Or that I would like it?"

"Perhaps I should've told you... differently," Romulus said carefully.

"Damn right you should have."

A tense silence followed.

"Does Julia know?" Remus asked. "Do Mum and Dad know?"

"Julia does, but Mum and Dad don't, yet. I decided to tell you first."

"I'm flattered," Remus said sarcastically. "How thoughtful, that you decided to tell me first before you were going to tell them that one of their sons is supposed to murder the other."

"I'd hoped you'd understand," came Romulus in a small voice.

"Understand? Oh yes, I completely understand. Thank you, Romulus. You finally made me understand that the Ministry's stupid and dangerous enough to make a man turn traitor on his brother." Remus got to his feet. "I don't have anything else to say to you, except that, from now on, I'll be double careful not to run into you when it's a full moon."

And with that, he walked out, leaving Romulus at the table, feeling miserable and utterly stupid.

* * *

"Didn't he _think_?" burst Sirius. 

"He did," said Remus wearily. "But along the wrong lines."

"Wrong lines... those weren't even lines anymore." Sirius was far angrier than Remus had been, but then again, Sirius had always had more of a temper than Remus. He suddenly stopped pacing, standing still in the middle of Remus' room, looking at his friend, who was sitting on the bed.

"You know, I just realised something..." he said. "You know the myth?"

"What myth?"

"Remus! And Romulus!"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Sadly enough, I do. My parents being stupid. At least they didn't name us Mark and Anthony or something like that."

"Mark and Frank – the German and French currency. But listen, irony strikes. In the myth, Romulus killed Remus, remember? And now, Romulus, your brother, is supposed to – "

"Yeah, sure," said Remus sarcastically. "This is all a big re-enactment of a myth. Snape is a Roman Emperor, Arthur Weasley is a king who pulled a sword from a stone, and you're actually a star."

"Perhaps. But if you ever feel the urge to build your own city, you'd better not pick a fight with Romulus when there's a bucket laying around. Buckets can kill, you know."

"I hate you."

"I know."

* * *

This was one of the last conversations Remus had with Sirius that month during which Sirius was genuinely cheerful. The prospect of having to hand his precious Godson over to Dumbledore depressed Sirius. Without the company of the children, Sirius would be left to his own company and that of Kreacher and Buckbeak for most of the days, and it was something he wasn't looking forward to. The closer the first of September got, the gloomier Sirius became. He began separating himself from the others, spending hours on end in his mother's bedroom with only Buckbeak for company. 

Remus did what he could to cheer his friend up, but he was busy himself. He spend most of his days at the Ministry, trying to listen in to conversations as inconspicuously as he could, which meant that he spend an awful lot of time in the elevators and around the coffee machine, the places where there was the biggest chance that people slipped up. The only time he spend two whole days at Grimmauld Place was after the full moon. He had gone home, to Derbyshire, for the Change, but hadn't felt like 'working' when he had come back, so he had decided to stay at 'home'. Sirius had livened up in those two days, but had gone back to his, now usual, sullen self when Remus had begun leaving every day again.

The summer vacation was nearly at an end, only one day to go, when McGonagall came in with unpleasant news.

"We have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," she said with pursed lips. She was sitting at the kitchen table, still in her coat – she only had a few minutes, and she was only here to pass important news on.

"Oh really?" Sirius asked. Remus wasn't home, but no doubt he wanted to know. "Who?"

"Dolores Umbridge." She gave Sirius a meaningful glare (it was supposed to be just an ordinary meaningful look, but with her square glasses and tight bun it came out as a glare).

Sirius pulled up his eyebrows. "I expect we're now thinking about the same Dolores Umbridge? The Senior Under-secretary to the Minister? However did that happen?"

McGonagall sighed. "The Ministry has passed a motion only today, called the Educational Degree number twenty-two, which says that when the Headmaster of Hogwarts can't find a suitable person, the Ministry is allowed to select somebody. Mere minutes later, Dolores Umbridge was appointed the new Defence teacher."

"How did Dumbledore react to the news?" Molly Weasley wanted to know.

"As to be expected, of course. He said we are to give her a warm welcome." She smiled wryly. "As if we hadn't have troubles enough, we're now supposed to endure someone who is in direct contact with the Ministry. We might as well have Fudge himself on the staff." She got to her feet. "I must be going. There's still a lot to prepare for the new school year. Molly, the letters will arrive tomorrow."

"Yes, thank you."

"Don't tell the children just yet," McGonagall instructed as she buttoned up her coat. "They'll find out soon enough." She looked pensively at Sirius. "Perhaps you should tell Remus. But do it with some tact, please."

"I'm always tactful around Moony."

She gave that peculiar laugh that teachers always have around certain promising but unruly students – even though that particular student wasn't a student anymore. That certain 'you say so, but I know better'-laugh. "I certainly hope so."

But, Sirius wondered when she was gone, how do you tell something like _this_ in a tactful way?

* * *

Remus only returned home very early in the morning and left again a few hours later, so Sirius didn't get around to telling him until the evening of August the 31st. They had just sneaked upstairs, to escape the mayhem the new Prefects – Ron and Hermione – had caused. Sirius was feeding Buckbeak dead rats, Remus was watching him from his own room. Sirius hadn't been able to lift the spell that wouldn't allow Remus to enter Mrs Black's room, and truth be told Remus liked it better this way. The further away from Buckbeak, the happier he was. 

"You know, McGonagall had some... news yesterday," Sirius began carefully.

"Oh really? What was it?" Remus rubbed his forehead sleepily. He felt tired. "She came to tell you that your transfiguration was abysmal and she expects to see you at Hogwarts tomorrow for extra classes, with the first-years?"

"You know I would almost _welcome_ that news?" Sirius asked. "How pathetic is that? No, it's... worse than that."

"Oh God." Remus leaned against the invisible wall that kept him from Mrs Black's room. He had his hands flat against it, and it looked rather strange from Sirius' point of view. "What happened?"

"I found out who's going to be the next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Really? Who is it? How is it bad? Or, rather, how bad is it? It's not Lucius Malfoy, is it?"

Sirius shook his head.

"Oh God, don't let it be Snape."

Sirius sighed. "Remus, it's Dolores Umbridge."

Remus gaped.

"Sorry."

"_Sorry_?" Remus repeated. "_Sorry? _Whoever is responsible for this is going to be _sorry_! God, I wish it had been Snape! Whatever was Dumbledore thinking? Really, I know I owe a lot to him and stuff, but – "

"It's not Dumbledore's fault," Sirius explained quickly. "He was overruled by the Ministry. They passed a motion, Educational Degree something, because he hadn't been able to come up with a decent teacher – in their eyes at least."

Remus hit his head on the invisible wall. "Sometimes, it seems as if everybody is trying to make my life hell."

Sirius walked over to Remus and patted him on the head. "I know the feeling."

"I know it isn't my job anymore, but... it was my job! Merlin knows what she's not going to teach those children."

"I know, I know..."

Somebody knocked on the door.

"C'min."

Molly Weasley stuck her head around the door. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Yes, we're coming."

She disappeared again. Sirius looked at his friend. "Ready to face the crowd with a cheery face?"

"I hate her," Remus muttered.

"Moony! Of course you don't! How can you say such a thing!"

"Easy," Remus said with the air of an obstinate child. "I open my mouth and the words come out."

"Don't act like me, please. Listen, Moony, you can't hate her. That's not like you. The world would fall to pieces and I wouldn't know what to do if you started hating. You only dislike, you never hate."

"I _intensely_ dislike her then, is that okay?"

"If you insist," Sirius said, giving a mock-sigh. "C'mon, Molly's expecting us downstairs, party-time. Hermione's a Prefect, doesn't that make you happy?"

"How would that make me happy?" Remus asked, slightly cheered up nonetheless.

"I know you longer than five minutes?" Sirius asked back. Remus grinned despite himself.

"But," Sirius said, "I'd dearly like to know why Harry isn't a Prefect."

"Probably about the same reason why Prongs wasn't one – too unruly. Snape would probably protest too. Besides, Ron deserves it. Let's go downstairs."

"Very elegant way of cutting off the conversation, Moony."

* * *

It turned out that Molly had decorated the kitchen. She had hung a banner over the dinner table, which read "CONGRATULATIONS RON AND HERMIONE; NEW PREFECTS." She had loaded the table with all kinds of dishes. 

Tonks and Kingsley were already there. Kingsley was his usual calm and collected self; Tonks looked eager to tuck in. She had waist-length red hair today.

"I can't remember my parents decorating like this when I became a Prefect," Remus said when he saw the banner.

"Poor you!" was Sirius' comment. "If I were you, I'd demand they decorate anyway. Even though it's twenty years too late."

Even Kingsley grinned.

Moments later, the children and Molly Weasley came in. They had barely sat themselves down and taken something to drink, when Alastor Moody arrived. Molly jumped to her feet again as he took off his cloak. He reacted quite differently (but not, as Sirius whispered to Remus and Tonks, unexpectedly) to the news of the new Prefects by warning Ron that figures of authority always attracted trouble, which rather seemed to put a damper on Ron's cheerfulness. He was, like the others, distracted by the entrance of Mr Weasley, Bill and Mundungus. After the whole ordeal of congratulating was done again, Arthur proposed a toast to the new Gryffindor Prefects. Remus smiled when he saw Hermione blush as everybody toasted to and applauded her and Ron.

After that, everybody was invited to tuck in. They were supposed to just take something from the table instead of sitting down. Remus ended up in a small group with Sirius, Tonks, Ginny, Hermione and Harry. The subject was of course Prefects.

"I was never a Prefect myself," Tonks told Ginny conversationally. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" Ginny said, already a grin around the corners of her mouth.

"Like the ability to behave myself," Tonks replied. Ginny burst into laughing, Remus and Sirius grinned and Hermione choked on her Butterbeer because she didn't know whether to laugh or look scandalised.

The grinning from behind brought Sirius to Ginny's attention. "What about you, Sirius?" she asked.

Sirius laughed. "No one would have made me a Prefect," he said, "I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge."

Remus smiled, albeit a bit wryly. "I think Dumbledore might have hoped I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends," he said. "I need scarcely say that I failed dismally." He glanced at his best friend. Sirius pulled a face and stuck out his tongue. Remus burst into laughing. "See?" They all laughed again.

After they'd filled their plates, they sat down. Sirius was immediately claimed by Ron, who couldn't stop talking about his new broom, the latest Cleansweep. He had picked the right person to talk to – Sirius had been a Quidditch fanatic too and he knew all about which qualities a good broom should have. Remus always felt slightly at sea during these kind of conversations.

Instead, he ended up sitting next to Hermione. She was still slightly giddy with excitement.

"Congratulations," he said. "Although you must be tired of hearing it by now."

"Not at all," she replied, smiling broadly.

"Have you told your parents yet?"

"I send Harry's owl, I expect I'll get a huge letter back tomorrow."

"I remember my own parents reaction," he told her, "they were ecstatic. Because, as my mother so eloquently put it, 'we were expecting it, but not exactly, you know, expecting it'."

She laughed, then said, suddenly serious: "was that because you were... a werewolf?"

The sudden change of topic startled Remus for a moment. He decided to just react normally to it; this was Hermione after all, the girl who had figured out in one year that her teacher was a werewolf. "Yes," he said simply. "Because of that."

"Professor Lupin," she went on passionately, "I hope you don't mind me discussing it right now, but remember that conversation we had a few weeks back?"

"I'm not your professor anymore, and yes, I do remember."

"I think I got a 'blistering retort' to what you said," she said, smiling confidently.

"Ah," he said, smiling himself. "Let's hear it."

"Well, it's a bit muddled, but it basically comes down to this. You said that serving is in the house-elf's nature and that they can't be forced to liberate themselves. And not everybody treats house-elves badly, it's just that some do."

"Exactly."

"Now, I've done a bit of reading on ethics, and I found out that it isn't right. There is this theory called Cultural Relativism which says that you shouldn't judge other cultures because what they are doing is right to them, even if it is horrible to you. If I may regard the wizarding world, or people with house-elves, as another culture; I don't like house-elf enslavement, but they see it as right, so I shouldn't judge it. But Cultural Relativism has, since a few years, been viewed as untrue, because there are some things that are always right and some things that are always unjust. Like stealing, or murdering. The philosopher Kant agreed with this, and said that things are only right if you can logically say it is right. Logically, I can't see why house-elves being treated badly because they have been for generations is right, or even just, therefore it must be an injustice."

Remus couldn't help himself – he burst into laughing. "Bravo, Hermione!" he said. "You're obviously very well read. But on the other hand. There's always another hand, you know..." He thought for a minute. "Ever heard of Aristotle?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course."

"He said that the world is ordered rationally, that everything is here for a purpose, and that the purpose of most of the world is to serve humans. Because, you see, humans are the best, the _piece de resistance _of creation. Aristotle apparently thought house-elves should serve wizards. Unless, of course, you think the great philosopher is wrong..." he finished teasingly.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times. "Well..." she said. "Perhaps... perhaps they didn't have house-elves at that time!"

"Perhaps," Remus said, grinning.

"You are so annoying!" she told him bluntly. This made him laugh. She was genuinely annoyed, though, and she continued hotly. She had cast aside the entire matter of philosophers from times past and was now only voicing her own opinion.

"It's just ridiculous that this entire group of people think they can get away with something like this," she began rattling. "For generations, they've treated the house-elves badly, just because they can, and just because the house-elves don't do anything against it. I mean, it's the same kind of nonsense as werewolf segregation, isn't it? It all stems from this horrible thing wizards have of thinking they're superior to other creatures –"

"Whoa, Hermione, slow down," Remus said. Her last words had hit a bit too close to home. "What's all this about werewolves all of a sudden?"

"Well," she said, a blush of indignation on her cheeks. "After – you know, when you resigned – I heard people talk, and they said... things..."

"I think I can imagine what they said," he said sourly. The conversation had taken a rather unpleasant turn.

"Yes, well... The things they said were, I thought, rather similar to what people say about house-elves. That they are inferior and... stuff like that." She blushed; she obviously felt uncomfortable repeating all this to him.

"Sadly, Hermione, you can't change the view of an entire country – an entire world perhaps – all by yourself," he said, sharper than he had intended.

"But don't you want to try?" she replied.

"Where would you begin?"

"The Ministry?" was her first, quick answer. Then, realising that the Ministry of Magic would probably be the last to want to see werewolves and house-elves as equals, she corrected herself: "or at least a small group of people. The people here are a start."

He smiled a bit sadly. "I wish you good luck." He mentally added: _and at Hogwarts too, with Umbridge..._

He got up. Hermione looked as though she wanted to say something, but Ginny, who had seen Remus get up, seized her chance and asked Hermione's opinion on whether Tonk's nose really looked like Dumbledore's or should it perhaps be slightly more crooked?

Remus was glad to escape more discussion about discriminated groups in the wizarding world. Out of habit, he checked to see what Sirius was doing. Apparently, the twins were trying to get some last-minute inspiration from the officially-retired (but unofficially still at large) Marauder. Remus went to get himself another drink.

Kingsley had had the same idea. The Auror cordially poured Remus a drink as well and they sat down together.

"I don't think I've seen the place so busy," Kingsley commented.

"That's what you get when you party with so many people, and it's the last day of the holidays too," Remus replied. He took a sip from his Butterbeer. The party was somewhat spoiled for him.

"You know, there's something I wonder..." Kingsley said.

"What's that?"

"Nothing against Ron, I'm sure he'll be great, but after everything Harry's done, I wonder why Dumbledore didn't make Potter a prefect?"

"He'll have had his reasons," Remus replied.

"But it would've shown confidence in him," Kingsley insisted. "It's what I'd have done. 'specially with the _Daily Prophet_ having a go at him every few days..."

"Maybe Dumbledore thought Ron was better suited. Or could use the confidence more," Remus said wearily. He had a feeling this entire conversation would be repeated later this evening, but with Sirius instead of Kingsley.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Kingsley said. "Still, it's unexpected."

"Hmm," said Remus. He got up again and walked to the other side of the basement. He had a strange, melancholy feeling, and he actually badly needed to be cheered up.

Sirius rose to the occasion.

"Oi, Moony," he said, as he came to stand next to his friend. "Wotcher?"

"You've spend too much time with Tonks," Remus observed. "I bet your mother wouldn't have liked you saying that."

"No, she would've given me a fairly severe beating, I suppose," Sirius replied. "What're you doing?"

"Meditating on the uselessness of existence," Remus sighed.

"Bored, eh?"

"Cheer me up, Padfoot."

"I have something that might interest you. The twins asked me if I could come up with an interesting project for them this school year. They wanted to do something with invisibility, so I suggested a project of genius: invisibility socks!"

"Invisibility socks?" Remus frowned. "What's the fun in that?"

"It makes your feet disappear."

"And?"

Sirius sighed. "And then you can pretend some monster ate it?"

"Padfoot, this is why you needed me. Socks aren't fun enough. Make it an invisibility glove, then you're talking."

"I have to admit that you were a fairly useful addition to Prongs' and my dream-team, but that doesn't mean you should get all proud and big-headed. What's the fun in invisibility gloves, oh wise one?"

"Well," Remus said with shining eyes. Sirius waited impatiently for the undoubtedly brilliant idea, already grinning madly. "You can put them on in potions and tell Snape you stuck your hand in your potion, and was this supposed to happen?"

Sirius roared with laughter. "Genius!"

"Or invisibility shoes, which make it seem as though you're floating a few inches above the ground."

"Or invisibility leg warmers so that an entire leg disappears."

"Or an invisibility collar so that your head floats above your shoulders."

"What would the effect be of invisibility earmuffs?" Sirius wondered.

But Remus' attention was on something else. "What's that Moody has?"

Sirius turned around. "What's that you've got there, Mad-Eye?" he asked, patient as always. Moody turned to him and showed an old photograph. As usual, the people (a fairly large crowd) were moving.

"Bugger that," Sirius whispered. "Moony."

"What?" Remus came to stand next to Sirius. He did a sharp intake of breath when he realised what he saw.

The entire original Order of the Phoenix.

"Look, there's me," Sirius pointed, sounding oddly distant.

"Yeah," Remus said. "You look so young. Where am I?"

"Somewhere at the back, I suppose." Sirius gave the photograph to Remus. "Here, you'll see it better." He turned away, pretending not to care. He hadn't mentioned James or Lily, let alone Peter, even though they had been almost right in the middle, next to Sirius.

Tonks peered over Remus' shoulder. "Can I see?"

"And I?" Ginny asked. The others voiced an interest too. Remus gave the photo back to Moody, so the former Auror could explain. He looked at Sirius, to see if there was anything he could do, but his friend avoided his eye.

He looked around the room again, and suddenly noticed –

"Where's Harry?"

Sirius' attention was immediately drawn. "What?"

"Did you see him go upstairs?"

Sirius thought for a moment. "No..."

"He's better not walk in on Molly and that – Boggart." He gave Sirius an alarmed look and immediately began making his way to the staircase, to the drawing room. Sirius followed suit, even though he had no idea what exactly was going on. He only took just enough time to beckon Moody to follow them.

Remus had his ears pricked up, listening intently to any sound coming from upstairs. He began taking the stairs two steps at a time when he heard a repeated cracking – the sound of a Boggart taking various shapes. A Boggart not properly taken care off, too frightening to be dealt with. He burst into the room.

"What's going on?"

He looked quickly across the room. Harry was standing only a few feet away from them. Molly was pressed against the wall, sobbing loudly. Boggart-Harry lay on the floor, dead.

_Oh Merlin, don't let Sirius see this._

He pointed his wand at the body and said almost automatically: "_Riddikulus_!" Without so much as looking at the moon that appeared, he waved his wand and the Boggart disappeared.

"Oh – oh – oh!" Molly broke down and began sobbing desperately, her face in her hands.

"Molly..." Remus walked to her and crouched down next to her, unsure just what exactly to do. "Molly don't..."

She flung her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.

"Molly, it was just a Boggart," he said, hoping it was comforting. He patted her on the head with the same hope. "Just a stupid Boggart..."

"I see them d – d – dead all the time!" she moaned. "All the t – t – time! I d – d – dream about it..."

Remus continued making soothing sounds and patting her on the head, rocking her slightly as if she was just a small child. It seemed to work; she eventually let go of him and leaned back against the wall. She dried her eyes with her cuffs and sniffed pathetically.

"D – d – don't tell Arthur," she said. "I d – d – don't want him to know... being silly..."

Remus handed her one of the handkerchiefs he always carried around, and she blew her nose. "Harry, I'm so sorry," she said next. "What must you think of me? Not even able to get rid of a Boggart..."

"Don't be stupid," Harry said, taking the words out of Remus' mouth.

"I'm just s – s – so worried," she confessed, teary-eyed. "Half the f – f – family's in the Order, it'll b – b – be a miracle if we all come through this... and P – P – Percy's not talking to us... what if something d – d – dreadful happens and we've never m – m – made it up with him? And what's going to happen if Arthur and I get killed, who's g – g – going to look after Ron and Ginny?" She wrung the handkerchief, a look of agony on her face.

"Molly, that's enough," Remus said sternly. "This isn't like last time. The Order are better prepared, we've got a head start, we know what Voldemort's up to –"

Molly whimpered softly when she heard Voldemort's name.

"Oh, Molly, come on, It's about time you got used to hearing his name – look, I can't promise no one's going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we're much better off than we were last time," he said bracingly. "You weren't in the Order then, you don't understand. Last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one – "

"Don't worry about Percy," Sirius interrupted suddenly. "He'll come round. It's only a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry's going to be begging us to forgive them. And I'm not sure I'll be accepting their apology."

Remus decided to ignore these bitter words. "And as for who's going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died," he said, allowing himself a small smile, "what do you think we'd do, let them starve?" He shook her gently at these words. To his relief, she smiled too.

"Being silly," she muttered again, but more gently this time.

"Heads up," he said, touching her chin and gently pushing it upwards like his father used to do. "It's going to be alright," he said softly so that only she could hear.

The smile on her face was now genuine, although her eyes were still wet. Remus saw her to her room and made sure she was okay before he walked out on the landing again. Sirius, as expected, was waiting for him. His friend made a sort of helpless gesture.

"I don't know, Moony..." he said. "I just don't know."

"Same here, Padfoot. Same here."

* * *

The next morning, there was no time for quiet reflection. Almost from the moment Remus woke up, the house was bursting with people running up and down the stairs, gathering clothes ("you ought to have done that yesterday!" – Molly was back on form), trying to catch Crookshanks, making breakfast and then spilling crumbs everywhere, and in the middle of it all Moody was organising his own kind of D-Day: H-Day. Hogwarts Day. 

"Will you lot get down here?!" he yelled upstairs at irregular intervals. "We're going to be late!"

"He's been yelling that since eight o'clock this morning," Tonks told Remus, pulling a face when Mrs Black joined the cacophony.

Remus visualised his fingers in his ears (and discovered it didn't help) and went down for breakfast. It was slightly more peaceful there – only Sirius was seated at the table.

"Coffee?"

"Please."

"You know, I'm incredibly glad my parents only had two children to see off to Hogwarts," Remus confessed, rubbing his eyes.

"And no cats either."

"Indeed."

There was a thunder coming from upstairs as though all the Weasley children and their trunks were falling down the stairs. Molly began shouting again, only just audible over Mrs Black's screaming.

"Moony, can I come along to King's Cross?" Sirius asked abruptly.

Remus sighed. "You know the answer to that. Sorry." He quickly got up again and walked out of the kitchen, so as not to have an argument with Sirius. Behind him, Sirius got up too with a determined look on his face.

Moody was in the hall, organising the luggage. "Ah, Lupin," he shouted (Mrs Black had just begun another round of insults), "I want you to take the twins and Miss Weasley to the station! Be careful and keep an eye out al all times, the enemy can be everywhere!"

"_SCUM! DIRT! FILTH! MUDBLOODS AND ABOMINATIONS!_" Sirius' mother screamed.

"What about Harry and the others?" Remus asked loudly.

"Arthur's taking Ron and Miss Granger, and Molly and Tonks are taking care of Potter," Moody replied. "I had hoped that Sturgis Podmore would be here too, but he hasn't shown up." Moody had a look on his face that indicated that Sturgis would be severely told off once he showed his face again.

"_BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!_" Mrs Black screeched.

"Perhaps you could go and see whether the children are ready?" Moody asked. "Potter is to go first, I'll follow with the luggage, then Arthur, and you're last."

"Okay," Remus answered. He began climbing the stairs, away from the deafening noise.

The first landing was incredibly quiet compared to the hall. Remus walked to Fred and George's room and knocked on the door. Fred opened it.

"Almost ready?" Remus asked. "We're going to walk to King's Cross. You two and Ginny are to come with me."

"Okay, we'll be down in a minute," Fred said.

Remus notified Ginny too, and when he got downstairs again Molly and Harry were already gone. Moody charmed the trunks so that they would be invisible and float behind him. Remus helped him get out of the door. Next were Arthur with Ron and Hermione. Two minutes later, Remus let Fred, George and Ginny out and, with a sigh of relief, closed the door behind themselves. The sudden silence was about as deafening as Mrs Black's screeches had been.

"We've got to hurry," he told the children. "We've only got twenty minutes."

They began walking at a fair pace, Ginny next to Remus and the twins behind them. Remus carefully looked around them every time they entered a new street, to see if there was anybody lurking, ready to attack them, but nothing happened. They reached King's Cross five minutes before the train was going to leave.

"George, Fred, you two go first," Remus instructed softly, so as not to attract too much attention. They already were looking slightly suspicious; the platform was nearly deserted and they seemed more interested in the barrier between platforms nine and ten than the train to Inverness that was waiting right next to them. The twins nodded, and a few seconds later they were gone. Remus and Ginny followed suit.

The others were waiting on the other side. Molly and Arthur were standing together, Molly giving some last advice to Ron (who didn't seem too pleased with it). Tonks was chatting with Hermione and Ginny, and Harry was looking at the train, with next to him –

"Padfoot," Remus groaned, rolling his eyes. Sirius was incurable.

The four of them walked over to the others. Moody immediately turned to Remus.

"No trouble?" he asked.

"Nothing," Remus assured him.

"I'll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore," Moody growled, "that's the second time he's not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus." Everybody ignored him.

Nobody saw it, but a few yards away, Draco Malfoy was looking at them with interest. He pulled his father's sleeve and whispered something to him. Lucius Malfoy looked at the group and nodded slowly, an odd smile on his face...

Remus saw that the conductor started ushering everybody on the train. He turned to the children. "Well, look after yourselves," he said, shaking hands. When he reached Harry, it suddenly seemed odd and overly formal to shake hands with him – James' son – too, so he clapped him on the shoulder instead. "You too. Harry. Be careful."

Padfoot snorted his assent. Remus reached out and gently pulled his ear. "Look who's talking," he said softly to his friend, when Harry's attention was temporarily drawn by Moody. The former Auror was instructing him as always to be careful.

"Keep your head down and your eyes peeled," he said. "And don't forget, all of you – careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."

Tonks' farewell was far more cheerful. "It's been great meeting all of you," she said as she hugged Hermione and Ginny. "We'll see you soon, I expect."

A warning whistle blew, and the students still on the platform quickly got on the train.

"Quick, quick," Molly said. She began hugging her children at random. She hugged Harry twice. "Write...," she said to Ron. "Be good..." she told the twins, and Ginny got told that "if you've forgotten anything we'll send it on... on to the train, now, hurry..."

The only one who hadn't said goodbye yet was Padfoot, and he did it in his own special way. He reared onto his hind legs and rested his front paws heavily on Harry's shoulders, ready to lick his Godson's face in the way Remus so detested, but Molly interfered. She pushed Harry away, to the train, and hissed to the dog: "For heaven's sake, act more like a dog, Sirius!"

The children hastily walked to a window and lined up behind it. "See you!" Harry called out while the others waved frantically. Molly, Arthur, Moody, Tonks and Remus waved back as the train began to move. Padfoot wagged his tail and bounded after the train, barking. He had to stop when he reached the end of the platform, where he stood, sadly, looking after the train carrying his Godson so far away from him.

* * *

"Completely irresponsible," Molly fussed the whole way back to Grimmauld Place. "Merlin knows what could have happened! What if anybody _knew_?" 

Arthur, Remus and Padfoot followed her quietly. Moody and Tonks had already said goodbye and gone to the Ministry. Remus and Padfoot lagged behind, walking a few feet behind the Weasleys. Padfoot wasn't as enthusiastic and playful as he had been on the way to the station. He trotted next to Remus like a obedient, sweet, incredibly large dog.

They were the last to enter number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Molly disappeared into the kitchen, still muttering furiously. Arthur followed her, to try and calm his wife down.

The moment Padfoot was inside, he changed back into Sirius. He watched his friend anxiously.

"D'you think I've been stupid?" he asked.

"A bit," Remus said, as he closed and locked the door behind him. They both squinted their eyes to see in the near-darkness. "But not much more than usual."

"You'll not tell Dumbledore?"

"Padfoot, I promise – if Dumbledore finds out, it'll not come from me. I actually thought you could do with some fresh air. Although perhaps not in this way, but rather in the middle of the night, or some time like that."

Sirius smiled broadly. "Moony, what should I do without you?"

"Yes, I sometimes wonder that too."


	8. Talking through the fire and the Daily P...

**My apologies for the language in this. Cursing, I mean. But I thought it fitted. :)**

**Possibly depressing, sorry. **

**Don't forget to review!**

**

* * *

September 1995.**

_"… the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin..."_

* * *

No wonder Sturgis Podmore didn't show up. 

They found out only late in the afternoon of the first of September that Sturgis had tried to break into the Ministry of Magic. No one understood why exactly he had tried to, but they al realised that if the Ministry were to find out about the Order, they would be in big trouble. Kingsley immediately went to work, to try and hush it all up.

Moody was determined to tell Dumbledore right away and the rest of the Order was just as determined _not_ to tell Dumbledore. He had enough on his mind anyway, they had argued, and besides, it's the first of September, the opening feast at Hogwarts, c'mon. Moody eventually gave in, although it was clearly against his better judgement.

So they broke the news to him the next day. By then, Kingsley had more to tell; Sturgis had been caught by Eric Munch, the Ministry's watchwizard, and he was to appear for the Wizengamot on September the fifth for trespassing and attempted robbery at the Ministry.

Remus wouldn't have believed it possible, but Dumbledore actually sat twenty seconds in stunned silence when he heard the news. The first thing he said when he had gathered his wits about again, was a calm: "why?"

And that was what everybody wanted to know. _Why_ had Sturgis done it? Why the Ministry? He worked there, after all, in the Department of Mysteries no less, as an Unspeakable. And why in the middle of the night? He was supposed to have been standing guard, not breaking in. It made no sense.

"If I switch my paranoid self on," Sirius had said, "I'd say someone Imperio'ed him into it."

"Sirius," Remus had replied, "I know Voldemort's the bad guy here, but even he wouldn't be so stupid."

"Voldemort wouldn't, but one of his followers would. Perhaps Lucius 'Oh yes, punish me Master, I like it so much' Malfoy would."

"Padfoot, that's very disturbing."

The only one not smiling at the suggestion (or being utterly grossed out by the mental images) was Moody. He gave Sirius a pensive look, but kept his thoughts to himself.

It didn't exactly help – except perhaps with supporting Sirius' theory – that Sturgis kept insisting that he had no idea what he had done or why he had done it. Tonks began coming home with stories of people joking that Sturgis had been such a dedicated Ministry employee that he had begun sleepwalking to his work, or that he naturally couldn't say what he had been doing there since he was an Unspeakable and wasn't allowed to talk about what he was doing.

* * *

On Friday the fifth of September, the atmosphere at 12 Grimmauld Place was barely less anxious than it had been on the day of Harry's hearing. That could perhaps be because of the people in it – or rather, the only person it in. Sirius felt decidedly abandoned; the rest of the Order was off somewhere else, mainly around the Ministry trying to find out just what was going to happen to Sturgis. Even Remus had disappeared, back to Derbyshire – full moon tonight. Sirius had tried to persuade him to stay at Grimmauld Place, but Remus had refused. "Maybe next month," he had said. But Sirius had a feeling that Remus just didn't want to Change at Grimmauld Place, not ever. He felt uncomfortable, somehow vulnerable, in his form with so many relatively unknown people around, with such a high risk of people walking in on him. Sirius had tried to argue that this was completely ridiculous, there wouldn't be anybody around except Sirius, and he should be considered used to Moony by now. But Remus had insisted. And that was why Sirius was now alone, except for a chagrined Hippogriff and a most annoying House-elf. 

He began the day by having an extremely long lie-in. There was no Molly around to shoo him out of bed anyway. He only wandered downstairs around two o'clock in the afternoon, when his stomach told him he really couldn't do without food anymore. He half-heartedly made himself breakfast, or lunch, or brunch, or whatever it was called, and was just about to think of something to do, when Kreacher shuffled into the kitchen, a disdainful and at the same time submissive look on his wrinkled face. It was a miracle to Sirius how the house-elf managed to do it.

"What do you want?" he ordered. He wasn't exactly in the mood for Kreacher.

"Kreacher wishes to inform the Master that an owl has arrived," the old elf said, bowing deeply. In an undertone, he added: "droppings all over the place, and who has to clean it? Oh, what a terrible fate Kreacher suffers, cleaning up after these people, half-breeds, bloodtraitors –"

"No thanks," Sirius said loudly and send Kreacher away with snapping his fingers and pointing at the door. Kreacher bowed again and shuffled out backwards, still muttering insults. He left his master feeling slightly disturbed, and it was only a few minutes later, when he had picked up Hedwig, that he realised why: he had dismissed Kreacher in the exact same way his parents had used to do, with a snap of the fingers, as if the elf was only an extremely obedient dog. He flinched.

"It's the house," he muttered. "It's driving me mad. I'm talking to myself."

He untied the letter and sat down. Hedwig hooted a bit indignantly at not being rewarded for her messaging, and began nibbling on the scrambled egg on Sirius' plate. Sirius reminded himself not to let Remus find out – his friend would scold him firstly for feeding an owl table-scraps, and secondly for not finishing his breakfast himself when he needed it so much.

"Bloody motherly friends," Sirius scolded softly, and he tore the letter open.

_Dear Snuffles,_

_Hope you're OK, the first week back here's been terrible, I'm really glad it's the weekend. _

_We've got a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. She's nearly as nice as your mum. I'm writing because that thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when I was doing a detention with Umbridge. _

_We're all missing our biggest friend, we hope he'll be back soon. _

_Please write back quickly._

_Best,_

_Harry_

Sirius jumped up, scratched his head and began pacing circles around the table. The clue about Umbridge being nearly as nice as Sirius' mum was easy enough – Harry dearly wanted to kick his new professor in the shins. Or worse. It didn't surprise Sirius, if he took in account what he already knew of her. Then there was this 'biggest friend'. _Our_ biggest friend even. Sirius puzzled for a moment, then it hit him – Hagrid of course. Harry would of course miss Hagrid, even though McGonagall had assured that Professor Grubbly-Plank was 'a very competent teacher'. But who wanted a competent teacher if you could have Hagrid? (Hermione and Remus didn't count.) And then there was that line about 'the thing I wrote to you about last summer'. Sirius had to rack his memory for several minutes – last summer seemed so long ago – until he remembered. Harry's scar.

He began ticking it off on his fingers. "Umbridge's a bitch, he's worried about Hagrid, _and_ his scar hurts. And I can't write him a long letter with advice back either because I'm not allowed to." He paced another round.

"Unless, of course, I use a code. But how do you write about these things in code? 'Yeah, you could say my mum and Umbridge are alike, since they are both the mother of a dog', with a nice wink to my being an Animagus. But that would be ridiculously easy to figure out." Another round.

"Going to Hogwarts is not an option either." Another round.

"Damn it, if only Harry and I had the two-way mirror James and I had." Another round.

He stopped in front of the huge fireplace, staring at the fire. The pot with Floo-powder on the mantle glittered in the light. They might have been jumping up and down with brightly-coloured little flags, singing _"pick me! Pick me!"_ in high-pitched voices, but Sirius didn't see the clues in front of him.

"Why doesn't the wizarding world use phones?" Sirius muttered moodily.

The Floo-powder seemed to do an extra bright sparkle, almost desperately. _Hello?_

Sirius looked up and saw the green powder. "Wait a minute…"

If they could, both the Floo-powder and the fire would have given an exasperated sigh.

* * *

Sirius intentionally waited until Sunday evening before he tried to contact Harry. He wanted to give Remus, or Tonks, or even Kingsley or Dumbledore, a chance to butt in with their opinion – or disapproval. But none of them showed their face, not even Remus. He got a short, matter-of-fact note from Kingsley, telling him that Sturgis had been sentenced to six months in Azkaban, and would Sirius please pass it on to any member of the Order that came to Grimmauld Place and didn't know yet. The letter was so matter-of-fact, so business-like and concerned with something else that Kingsley completely seemed to have forgotten Sirius' own sentence in Azkaban. It was a strange experience for him to see that word there, calmly: _Azkaban_. Sturgis had been sentenced to six months of Hell. 

Apart from that, he didn't hear from anybody.

So around nine in the evening, he took the pot with Floo-powder and sat down at the fire. He threw a bit of powder in the flames, waited until they turned green and stuck his head in the fire. "Gryffindor Common Room!"

His head began spinning on his body until it came to rest again and he looked into the completely filled common room of Gryffindor. He immediately drew his head back.

"Damn it, shouldn't those kids be in bed by now?" he said.

He tried again around ten o'clock, then eleven, and then twelve. At midnight, the common room was decidedly emptier, so he decided to now check every ten minutes or so. To his relief, Harry wasn't an early sleeper.

At twenty past twelve he stuck his head in the fire again. He looked right in Harry's eyes, but only realised when he had reflexively drawn his head back. He stuck it back in again.

"Sirius's head?" he heard Hermione say. "You mean like when he wanted to talk to you during the Triwizard Tournament? But he wouldn't do that now, it would be too – Sirius!"

She gaped at Sirius. He figured it had to be a pretty strange sight, a head in the middle of flames. Ron was so startled he dropped his quill. Harry smiled. He was sitting on the floor, kneeled at the fireplace.

"I was starting to think you'd go to bed before everyone else had disappeared," Sirius said conversationally to his Godson. "I've been checking every hour."

"You've been popping into the fire every hour?" Harry said, half-laughing.

"Just for a few seconds to check if the coast was clear," Sirius said, grinning.

"But what if you'd been seen?" asked Hermione. She and Ron joined Harry on the floor.

"Well, I think a girl – first-year, by the look of her – might've got a glimpse of me earlier – " Sirius began casually, but changed his tone when he saw Hermione's worried look. "But don't worry, I was gone the moment she looked back at me and I'll bet she just thought I was an oddly-shaped log or something."

"But, Sirius, this is taking an awful risk –" Hermione began a Molly-esque rant.

"You sound like Molly," said Sirius coolly. "This was the only way I could come up with of answering Harry's letter without resorting to a code – and codes are breakable."

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry. Hermione downright glared. "You didn't say you'd written to Sirius!"

"I forgot," Harry said, looking slightly amazed at himself – he _had_ forgotten. "Don't look at me like that, Hermione, there was no way anyone would have got secret information out of it, was there, Sirius?" He turned to his Godfather.

"No, it was very good," Sirius complimented. "Anyway, we'd better be quick, just in case we're disturbed – your scar."

"What about –?" Ron began, but Hermione interrupted him.

"We'll tell you afterwards. Go on, Sirius."

"Well, I know it can't be fun when it hurts," Sirius said matter-of-factly, "but we don't think it's anything to really worry about. It kept aching all last year, didn't it?"

"Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion," said Harry. Ron and Hermione winced at the name, but both Harry and Sirius ignored them. "So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention."

"Well, now he's back it's bound to hurt more often," said Sirius.

"So you don't think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me when I was in detention with her?" Harry wanted to know.

"I doubt it," said Sirius. "I know her by reputation and I'm sure she's no Death Eater –"

"She's foul enough to be one," said Harry darkly. Ron and Hermione nodded their vigorous assent. Sirius almost had to laugh, albeit wryly.

"Yes, but the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," he said. "I know she's a nasty piece of work, though — you should hear Remus talk about her." Judging by Remus' words, she was even worse than a Death Eater. At least Death Eaters usually kill their victims quickly, he had said a few days ago.

"Does Lupin know her?" Harry asked.

"No," said Sirius, _not personally anyway_, "but she drafted a bit of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job."

"What's she got against werewolves?" Hermione demanded to know, an angry frown on her face. Sirius smiled as he turned to her.

"Scared of them, I expect," he said. "Apparently she loathes part-humans; she campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year, too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose."

Ron laughed, Harry grinned, but Hermione looked even more indignant than at the mention of Umbridge's dislike of werewolves.

"Sirius!" she reprimanded. "Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I'm sure he'd respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he's got left, and Professor Dumbledore said –"

"So, what are Umbridge's lessons like?" Sirius impolitely changed the subject. "Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?" It was Remus' mock-greatest fear (his real greatest fear was that everybody actually _wanted_ to kill half-breeds).

"No," said Harry, looking rather happy that Hermione's speech had been cut of. "She's not letting us use magic at all!"

"All we do is read the stupid textbook," added Ron.

"Ah, well, that figures," said Sirius reasonably. "Our information from inside the Ministry is that Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat." Tonks and Remus had heard as much.

"_Trained in combat!" _repeated Harry incredulously. "What does he think we're doing here, forming some sort of wizard army?"

"That's exactly what he thinks you're doing," said Sirius, now not feeling the least inclined to smile anymore, "or, rather, that's exactly what he's afraid Dumbledore's doing – forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic."

The children were silent, stunned, at this. Then Ron said: "that's the most stupid thing I've ever heard, including all the stuff that Luna Lovegood comes out with."

"So we're being prevented from learning Defence Against the Dark Arts because Fudge is scared we'll use spells against the Ministry?" Hermione said furiously. She looked ready to begin yet another campaign, this time against the Ministry itself.

"Yep," said Sirius. "Fudge thinks Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power. He's getting more paranoid about Dumbledore by the day. It's a matter of time before he has Dumbledore arrested on some trumped-up charge."

"D'you know if there's going to be anything about Dumbledore in the _Daily Prophet _tomorrow?" Harry asked pensively. "Ron's brother Percy reckons there will be –"

"I don't know," said Sirius, shaking his head, "I haven't seen anyone from the Order all weekend, they're all busy. It's just been Kreacher and me here." He sighed inaudibly.

"So you haven't had any news about Hagrid, either?"

"Ah..." said Sirius. _Our biggest friend. _"Well, he was supposed to be back by now, no one's sure what's happened to him." The trio looked shocked, and he remembered that they weren't so privy to the Order's information as he was. He added quickly: "but Dumbledore's not worried, so don't you three get yourselves in a state; I'm sure Hagrid's fine."

"But if he was supposed to be back by now..." said Hermione softly, anxiously. Ron and Harry looked just as worried as she sounded.

"Madame Maxime was with him, we've been in touch with her and she says they got separated on the journey home," Sirius assured them, "but there's nothing to suggest he's hurt or – well, nothing to suggest he's not perfectly OK." They still didn't look convinced, so he added: "Listen, don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid, it'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back and I know Dumbledore doesn't want that. Hagrid's tough, he'll be OK."

Ron frowned, Hermione looked worried, and Harry looked as though he simply had a bad feeling about the entire thing. To try and get their minds on other, better things, Sirius said, making himself sound cheerful: "when's your next Hogsmeade weekend, anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn't we? I thought I could —"

"NO!" Harry and Hermione nearly shouted. Sirius raised his eyebrows, amazed.

"Sirius, didn't you see the _Daily Prophet_?" said Hermione urgently.

"Oh, that," said Sirius relieved, grinning. He had indeed got the paper yesterday morning. But he had discarded it as a load of rubbish; Kingsley hadn't said anything about getting a tip from someone he didn't know or hadn't made up. "They're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue –"

"Yeah, but we think this time they have," Harry interrupted. "Something Malfoy said on the train made us think he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform, Sirius – you know, Lucius Malfoy – so don't come up here, whatever you do. If Malfoy recognises you again –'

"All right, all right, I've got the point," said Sirius loudly. "Just an idea, thought you might like to get together."

"I would, I just don't want you chucked back in Azkaban!" said Harry.

Sirius looked at his Godson, his eyes narrowed. He suddenly felt distant from the boy. It was strange; there was James, crouched by the fire, but at the same time it wasn't. Lily's eyes suddenly appeared more prominent, more visible. Suddenly, it was her talking, not James. James would've welcomed the plan, would've seen it as another adventure. Lily would've scolded them for it.

"You're less like your father than I thought," Sirius concluded coolly. "The risk would've been what made it fun for James."

"Look –" Harry began, but Sirius interrupted.

"Well, I'd better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs," he lied, forcing himself to sound unaffected, trying to mask his disappointment. His grief. "I'll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I?" The last sneer slipped out before he could help it – "If you can stand to risk it?"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius had already drawn his head back.

* * *

"Did you sleep _at all_ tonight?" 

"Sleep is overrated," Sirius growled. "And shut up."

"Sorry I asked!" Tonks said, offended. "I was only showing some interest in you, gee."

"That's the first time in days," Sirius replied sourly.

"Can I help it? You know I'm busy."

"That's my point," Sirius snarled. "Everybody is so bloody busy that nobody even bothers to tell _me_ what the hell is going on!"

"Sirius!" said Molly sharply, putting the coffee-pot on the table with a loud 'clunk'. "Language!"

Sirius pretended he hadn't heard. "The only thing I get is letters with minimal information, telling me to pass it on to whoever deigns himself to stop by. I'm nothing more than a fucking messenger."

"Could you _not_ use those words, especially not when we're having breakfast?" asked Molly hotly. Again, Sirius pretended not to have heard; he was hoping he could talk her into having an argument. Then he wouldn't be the only one to suffer and be frustrated.

Unfortunately for him, Kingsley came into the kitchen at that very moment. He was carrying the _Daily Prophet_, as always; a subscription wouldn't work with a house under the Fidelius-charm, and besides, Kingsley liked stopping by around breakfast to chat, catch up with the latest news and enjoy Molly's toast, scrambled eggs and sausages.

"_Daily Prophet_'s here," he announced, as he came walking down the stairs.

"Ah, Kingsley." Molly began busying herself with breakfast for the Auror.

"Anything interesting in the paper?" Tonks asked, but Kingsley didn't answer her. Instead, he asked Sirius: "is Remus down yet?"

"No, he's still upstairs," Sirius answered. "He's a bit hangover, I expect. Had a rough weekend."

"Don't let him see this, then – it'll make it worse." Kingsley didn't look pleased.

"Why?" Tonks asked. "What's wrong?"

"This." With that one word, the tall man showed them the headline of today's _Daily Prophet_.

"MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM; DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR."

"Bugger," Sirius scolded, as he grabbed the newspaper.

"Sirius…" said Molly threatening, clutching a spoon in a possibly dangerous way.

"Whatever is a High Inquisitor?" Tonks wondered.

"I have no idea, but it sounds like torturing to me," Sirius muttered as his eyes flew over the lines.

"Nobody expects the Umbridge inquisition," Kingsley said as he sat down. "It's not just the headline, though. Remus shouldn't read the entire piece. We should throw the paper away and pretend it didn't exist."

"Why – ?" Tonks began, but she was interrupted by Sirius, who had reached the fifth to last paragraph, and was staring incredulously at three words in particular.

"Fuck."

"_Sirius!_"

_Please let me be dead_, Remus thought, squeezing his eyes shut. He was still in bed, and if it were up to him he'd stay there for, oh, the rest of his life. His body felt as though somebody had broken every bone in it. _Come to think of it – that's true. Depressingly enough._

By sheer power of will, he opened his eyes and looked at the alarmclock on the bedside table. Half past eight. He groaned.

Staying in bed would be considered lazy and unmotivated. Getting up would mean spending another boring day at the Ministry. Perhaps he could stay at Grimmauld Place today.

_That actually sounded like a good plan._

He sat up, swung his legs out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. The day had begun.

Remus could've known something was wrong when he entered the kitchen. Everybody was just a little too 'oh, no, we're fine, nothing's wrong, we're all very happy, really' to be real. But he was tired and still half sleeping, so he didn't notice anything. Not even that Sirius had made a sudden movement when he came in, a movement which involved a lot of paper rustling, or that Tonks was throwing him anxious looks. He was only dimly aware of Molly being much quicker with giving him tea and toast than usual.

"So, Kingsley," he said hoarsely (_damn Change_). "Any news today?"

The question actually seemed to startle Kingsley for a moment. Sirius moved restlessly in his seat. Oddly enough, he made a creaking sound as he did so.

"No, nothing special," Kingsley said.

"Okay." Remus began eating his toast.

Tonks and Sirius exchanged looks. _"You should tell him,"_ Tonks mouthed.

"_No, why should I tell him? _You_ tell him!" _Sirius gestured back. _"He's had it bad enough already this weekend!" _

"_But you're his best friend!" _Tonks gestured almost accusingly at Sirius, who glared back. He could hardly deny that she was right. But that didn't mean he was going to tell Remus.

It was only when he had finished his toast and tea that Remus noticed everybody was looking at him. And not in a relaxed way either.

"Anything the matter?" he asked, a feeling of dread growing inside him.

"Hmm," said Sirius. Tonks nudged him.

"_Go on!" _

"Erm, Remus," Sirius began carefully.

"What?"

"Uhm. Kingsley just brought us the _Daily Prophet_…"

Kingsley and Molly looked at Sirius in horror. He wasn't really going to say it, was he?

"Oh God." Remus' eyes widened. "Anything bad?" He turned to Kingsley, accusingly. "And you said there was no news!"

"Um," said Kingsley. It was the first time Remus had seen him lost for words.

"Well?" he asked Sirius. "What is it? They haven't found us out, have they?"

Sirius laughed nervously. "Funny you should say that."

"Padfoot, this is no laughing matter," Remus said sternly. "What was in the paper?"

"Read for yourself," Sirius sighed. He took the paper from under him. "Sorry I sat on it."

"You _sat_ on the paper? Why?"

"To keep it from you of course, dolt. Read. I'm sorry."

"Hm." Remus didn't even pay attention to his friend anymore when he saw the headlines. "Oh good God and all his angels and that kind of things."

Tonks groaned. "Are we really going to let him read the rest?" she whispered to Sirius. But Sirius knew Remus could read at top-speed and was already reading the article. There was nothing to be done now.

"'_And of course she's been an immediate success'_," Remus read aloud. He didn't look up when he said it, and so he didn't see the others looking at him with a sort of anxious, fascinated horror.

"'… _has received enthusiastic support' _– oh, of course," Remus muttered his commentary. "Sirius, Lucius Malfoy's quoted."

"I know," said Sirius, feeling ridiculously calm. He was near hysterical laughing, or crying, or both, when he saw his friend mouth the next few sentences, slowing down his reading, unconsciously clenching his fist, digging his nails in the palm of his hand, a frown of utter sadness appearing on his face.

Remus finished the last sentence, then he carefully folded the newspaper, avoiding to look at the photo of Dolores Umbridge on the front page. The lines in his face seemed to have deepened.

"I'm sorry," Tonks whispered. The sad smile he gave her wasn't so much a smile as a short, barely visible jerk of the corners of his mouth. He avoided her eyes.

Sirius felt like murdering someone. Particularly a certain short woman, favouring the colour pink, currently residing at Hogwarts and making his friend's life a hell.

"I cannot believe they're getting away with this," he burst out. "This is slander. It's worse than slander. They don't realise what they're saying, what they've just done – "

"Sirius, shut the hell up," said Remus tiredly. He rubbed his forehead. "You're not making sense. It's not slander, it's the truth. Newspapers are supposed to tell the truth. Whether that's… pleasant… or not."

"How can you be so calm about it?" Tonks said accusingly. Remus only smiled at her.

Sirius realised his friend had put on his mask.

He knew this Remus. He had seen him before. This was automatic-pilot Remus. It was 'oh no, I'm absolutely fine with it, really, I don't care'-Remus. 'Smile on his face and distant look in his eyes'-Remus. And Sirius also knew that his friend would try and get away as soon as possible, to be alone. Because under that mask, the real Remus was far from calm. This was much worse than a vengeful Potions Master 'slipping up' in front of a hall of students. _Everybody_ in the whole of the United Kingdom now knew that this man, Remus Lupin, was not to be trusted. He wouldn't be able to protect himself. Sirius would have to protect him against the rest of the country.

He began with getting the people here off his friend's back. "What's the use of screaming and kicking?" he answered Tonks's question for Remus, echoing the words Remus had told his friends so often when they had voiced their indignation. "It won't do any good. Now – " he gave a meaningful look at the clock. "It's nine o'clock…"

"I get the hint," Tonks said, rolling her eyes. She stood up. "But I still think them utter bastards."

Remus smiled weakly. "You're allowed to," he said softly.

"Good." Kingsley got up as well. "Will you be coming to the Ministry later?"

"Perhaps," Remus said. "Later."

"I'll see you then." Kingsley gave Remus a worried, pitying look, then he motioned for Tonks to follow him, and the two Aurors walked out of the kitchen.

Molly made to pick up the _Daily Prophet_, but Sirius snatched it away. The last thing he needed was for her to see Percy openly supporting Umbridge. Not now.

"Erm, Molly, could you…" he began, frantically thinking of something he could go make her do. "I need…"

"We're out of… parchment," she tactfully 'remembered'. "For the Meetings. I'm going to get a few reams in Diagon Alley."

"Good idea," Sirius said. He didn't see it, but Remus glanced at him, smiling his first genuine (albeit small) smile this morning.

They waited until Molly had put on her cloak and left, before Sirius said: "so. And what are we going to do now?"

"Thanks, Sirius," Remus said, ignoring the question.

"What for?"

"For getting the others off my back." Remus smiled sadly.

"I'm really transparent to you, aren't I?" Sirius groaned. He sat down.

"Of course you are. You're like glass to me."

"It's really annoying."

"I know. Probably as transparent as I am to you. That's why you worked the others away, didn't you?"

"Yeah. And don't start thinking you're any bit transparent. Most of the time, you're a complete mystery to me." Sirius was happy to see the real Remus come back when his friend smiled.

"Oh really? I'm not transparent? What am I going to do now, you think?"

"The usual," Sirius said casually. Remus pulled up an eyebrow. "You're going to be sad for a while, and withdrawn, but eventually you're going to hold your head high and go on with your business as usual, the rest of the world be damned. You're really stronger than you look, Moony."

Remus laughed and pulled a face. Sirius couldn't help but laugh too. "Thanks, I guess."

"What are you going to do in the near future? As in, the next three hours?"

"I don't know," sighed Remus. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, I was planning to go and clean up, uhm. I was going to clean my father's study and sort out his stuff. I could use a hand, actually, but nobody's here except Kreacher…" Sirius pretended to sigh.

"Oh, the subtlety of that hint," Remus teased. "Gee, I couldn't possibly understand what you mean. Well, I suppose you can always ask Kreacher to help you out. Or did you mean you needed a –" For a moment, Remus paused. He had wanted to say 'a _human_ hand', but that way of putting it forcefully reminded him of the _Daily Prophet_. He wasn't human; not completely. "– did you mean you needed _my _hand?" he corrected himself.

"Why Moony, now you so kindly offer it…" Sirius joked. He got up. "Shall we?"

Remus got to his feet as well, looking serious. "Thanks, Padfoot," he said solemnly.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Why now?"

"For… offering me a way out."

"Erm. Out of what?"

"The rest of the world." There was no hint of a smile in Remus' eyes. It made Sirius feel sad and angry at the same time, but he forced himself to smile. He hit his friend on the shoulder.

"We'll see later, when you're covered in dust and are completely exhausted and sore from cleaning, whether you'll want to thank me again, Moony."


	9. Scrimgeour

**September 1995.**

"_What were you saying about Scrimgeour?" _

"_Oh… yeah… well, we need to be a bit more careful, he's been asking Kingsley and me funny questions…" _

* * *

Of course, Remus knew he had to go out someday. There was no use staying hidden indoors with Sirius for weeks on end. Besides, he wouldn't have been able to face Dumbledore anyway. The Headmaster would take him by the scruff of his neck and kick him out of the door. Figuratively speaking, of course.

So out he went. Careful at first – although he didn't care for the opinions of bigoted people and thought that if they didn't want to talk to him, it was _their_ problem, not his, he wasn't one to voluntarily seek these people's company. Not caring was one thing, but that didn't mean he was supposed to torture himself.

He was nearly insulted when he found out that the rest of the world wasn't standing on the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place, waving torches. Quite the contrary, almost. It turned out that he wasn't as well-known as he thought, and that people didn't read the newspaper as carefully as he had thought. Nor did they remember everything – most people only remembered that Umbridge was now the Hogwarts High-Inquisitor. And oh yes, there was a werewolf mentioned, but what was his name again..?

There were some who knew, however. Some people had folded open the paper over breakfast, had recognised the name – had stared incredulously at the word preceding it.

The most painful was when he went to buy a book in Diagon Alley, in his favourite bookshop. The manager was an elder wizard whom Remus had known for years, practically since he'd graduated from Hogwarts. He considered the man a friend, and was under the impression that the feeling was mutual. So it came as an extra nasty shock when he went to buy a book and the man didn't stop his work to show him a new book he had got, or even just to chat. On the contrary – he pretended not to know Remus, wrapped the book quickly without a word and accepted the money with barely a nod. And he made a point of not touching Remus' hand when he put the money on the counter. It was as if he wasn't there, as if some mysterious invisible entity was taking a book and laying money on the counter. When he walked out of the store, he felt a pair of eyes on his back, but he didn't look back. He immediately walked to the branch of Honeydukes in Diagon Alley, bought two pockets-full of chocolatefrogs, went back to Grimmauld Place and stayed there for the rest of the day. There was a limit to the amount of rejection he could take.

He also decided never to buy books there again.

At Grimmauld Place, he felt safe, odd as that may sound. There was only Sirius around (and Kreacher, but Sirius always threw the house-elf out of the room as fast as possible since he couldn't stand him longer than five minutes). The rest of the Order mainly acted as though the article in the _Daily Prophet_ had never happened.

They already knew anyway. The only reaction Remus could notice was one of pity, and an almost thoughtful comment from Dung that Remus surely wouldn't want to buy some, erm, 'second-hand' silver cutlery. Remus had politely declined, and Molly had decided to count all the forks, knives and spoons at 12 Grimmauld Place again.

The warmest comfort had come, however, not from Sirius, or Dumbledore, or another Order-member he'd expect it from – the warmest comfort came from McGonagall, a few days after Umbridge had been appointed High Inquisitor. McGonagall was once again ranting indignantly about her newest colleague, amusedly watched by Dumbledore (who didn't like Umbridge either, but, being Dumbledore, would never admit it). Remus had felt very flattered when she said that Umbridge was 'teaching the children to disrespect their teachers' with an obvious glance at him.

Sirius had half-joked that, with teachers like Umbridge, how could the children be expected to respect their teachers? But Remus knew that hadn't been McGonagall's point, and he felt… grateful. Strange as that may sound.

"Grateful?" Sirius had said when Remus had told him this. "Grateful? That sounds like you want to give her flowers to thank her."

"Well, perhaps not exactly like that," Remus had said.

"But with a little card, 'Thank you for liking me'?"

"Yes, Padfoot, more like that."

The look of sadness that flitted over Remus' face before he could stop it made Sirius swallow any 'funny' comments he had wanted to make. So instead, he patted his friend on the shoulder. "You're welcome, Moony," he said. "Any time."

* * *

"Remind me again why I'm doing this," Remus said, as the golden grille clattered back and he stepped out of the elevator, flanked by Kingsley and Tonks.

"Because you're such an unmissable person," Tonks said, patting his back. "You know what? I'll let you get me _cappuccino_ today instead of just coffee."

"Yippee," Remus muttered, but grinning nonetheless. "You know, you sound exactly like your cousin."

"That's the Black-humour gene," she said, winking.

"That would have been amusing, where it not that _he_ has made that joke at least a dozen times before."

"Shoot, and I thought I was original," she pouted.

"C'mon Tonks, stop babbling and go do something useful," Kingsley said. He shooed her to her cubicle.

"Aye-aye sir!" she saluted, and disappeared.

Remus followed Kingsley to the Auror's cubicle, the by now familiar one with all the photos. When he wasn't being questioned or listening in on conversations, Remus quite enjoyed studying all the pictures. There were some he had never seen before, and seeing them felt like suddenly remembering a forgotten memory.

"You okay?" Kingsley interrupted his thoughts. "No bad feelings about being back on the work-floor?"

"Well," Remus said, "as long as I don't have to wear a name-tag, I think I'll be fine." He had had to wear a name-tag, the first few times Kingsley took him to the Auror Headquarters, but by now he was such a familiar face that Watch wizards didn't bother with it anymore.

"I'll make up a fake name for you," Kingsley said smiling, "I've become quite good at that."

"Lie to your colleagues?" Remus said, as he followed the Auror into his cubicle. "Tssk, what would they say if they found out?"

"They'd be too appalled to say anything, of course." Kingsley leafed through a pile of sheets of parchment until he found what he was looking for. "Here, I'd like you to read this. I got this yesterday."

Remus took the sheet and began reading, watched by Kingsley. It was a scarily detailed testimony by Lucius Malfoy, why he thought that Sirius wasn't in Russia (his new hiding place) but was comfortably hiding in England, in London to be exact. He only just kept himself from mentioning seeing Sirius as a black dog at King's Cross Station (_that_ would sound a bit too unbelievable, seeing as Sirius was an unregistered Animagi), but he had included a short list of people who confirmed that, yes, Sirius Black was in London.

"Good God," Remus said when he had finished reading.

"Quite right." Kingsley narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "The question is – how has he found out?"

"He's seen him at King's Cross," Remus said, leaning wearily against Kingsley's desk. "When we went to take Harry to Hogwarts. Peter's obviously told him that he's an Animagus."

"How come you know that?"

"Harry told Sirius, who told me."

"And how come _I _don't know it?"

"Well… Sirius must've forgotten to tell you…"

"Brilliant…" Kingsley muttered darkly. "To forget something like that."

"Hmm," said Remus. He looked over the list again. "You know these people?"

"Absolutely no idea," Kingsley said. "I'll have to check them, of course. To check that he hasn't made them up."

"Making up witnesses, who would _ever_ do that?" Remus said lightly, but immediately turned serious again. "You know, I have a sneaky suspicion all these people are close friends of old Lucius. Perhaps you should ask Snape whether he knows anyone of them."

"Perhaps I should," Kingsley replied, taking the sheet of parchment again. "But I'm not sure whether he'll want to do that. The last time I asked for his help, he flat-out refused. Said he didn't want anything to do with anything even remotely related to Black."

"When was that?"

"Somewhere around July 1994, why?"

Remus laughed. "No, I can quite imagine him not wanting anything to do with Black _then_. But seriously, you should ask him, it's important. And I really think he knows at least half of these people."

"Why does he hate Black so much anyway?" asked Kingsley pensively. "What happened to cause that much hatred? They practically breathe fire to the other, if not kept in check."

"No, when they're not kept in check they'd murder one another. I don't know, actually, what exactly caused it. It began in the first weeks of our first year, and we weren't that close friends then. They were already hating each others guts when I began hanging out with them every waking minute."

"Excuse me, am I interrupting?"

Kingsley and Remus turned. There, in the opening of the cubicle, was a man standing. He was one of those completely nondescript, inconspicuous people you wouldn't look twice at. Remus imagined there had to be at least a dozen other men exactly like this man walking around the Ministry. The kind that obediently clocked in at nine in the morning, did his duty, went home at five in the afternoon to be at home in time for the dinner their fateful wife had made.

"Oh, no, of course not," Kingsley said hastily. "We were just talking."

"I'm sorry for the interruption," the man said courteously, despite just being told that he wasn't interrupting. That, Remus thought, was also typical for this kind of man; the endless stream of apologies, the behaviour that was always appropriate.

The man looked at Remus. "Excuse me, have we been introduced?"

"I don't think so," Kingsley said. He indicated Remus and was ready to say his name, when he remembered that introducing 'Remus Lupin' wasn't perhaps the smartest idea. Especially not to this man. "This is… Uhm. Snape."

Remus looked at Kingsley with a sort of horrified expression. _Excuse me? _

Kingsley sort of shrugged. It was the first name that had popped up in his mind. "John Snape. Erm, John, this is…"

"George Scimgeour," the man introduced himself. He shook Remus' hand. "Nice to meet you." He smiled. "Not related to the Hogwarts Professor, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Remus said, unable to hold back a slight shiver.

"Good," Scrimgeour said lightly. "My youngest has just began his first year, and I'm again getting letters with stories that I'd feel very uncomfortable repeating to you, if you were related to him."

Remus smiled for a few seconds. Scrimgeour already ignored him, and turned to Kingsley.

"I see you found what I put on your desk?" he asked, nodding to the sheet of parchment Kingsley was still holding. "I had wanted to give it to you personally, but you were gone before I could do it."

"I had to go home early," Kingsley said.

"Well, I tried to call at your home, but you weren't there either," Scrimgeour insisted.

"I had an appointment with somebody else," Kingsley said evasively. He had been at Grimmauld Place again.

"Ah," said Scrimgeour, unconvinced. He looked from Kingsley to Remus. "What did you say you were doing here again?"

"I didn't," Remus said.

"He's helping me with my search for Sirius Black," Kingsley interrupted.

"Ah, of course," Scrimgeour said. "I've seen you here before. I already thought I recognised your face."

Remus had the sudden feeling one gets when one realises one is being stalked. Not that it had ever happened to him before (save, perhaps, a quartet of Ravenclaw girls who had had a crush on him, that year when he was teaching), but still. He guessed Kingsley was feeling slightly creeped out too, because the Auror rather abruptly said "yes, thank you, John, that will be all." (It took Remus a few moments to realise that Kingsley was addressing _him_.)

It was obvious that Kingsley wanted him out of the way, so as not attract too many questions from Scimgeour. He'd have a hard enough time getting the inquiring man off his back anyway. So Remus kindly took his leave, walked towards the elevators, then wondered what he was going to do now.

Going back was not an option. Remaining in the Auror Headquarters would be too suspicious, he'd have to go somewhere else. But where?

The elevator arrived and the golden grille rattled back. Remus got in and pressed the button for the atrium. _I can of course always go back to Grimmauld Place. Sirius'll be happy to see me. _

The elevator zoomed softly as it took Remus downwards. He got out when he reached the atrium, then looked around. As usual, the big hall was buzzing with voices of people coming or going. There was a small queue in front of the desk of the watch-wizard. The water in the fountain of Magical Brethren rushed, and the golden figures on the ceiling did their eternal dance.

He was about to press on the button for the phone box that would take him to street level again, when somebody pulled his sleeve and excitedly said: "it _is_ you!"

He looked to his right, then down. There was a small girl with blond hair tied in two plaids beaming up at him, her yellow eyes shining.

"Fay!"

One of the sunniest smiles he had ever seen appeared on her face.

"Mum said I was wrong," she said, "but I knew it was you!" She beamed, proudly. "I smelled you," she whispered.

"You _smelled_ me?" he repeated, laughing. "Oh no." He theatrically sniffed his hands. "I washed only this morning!"

She stuck out her tongue. "Stupid."

She was changed, he noticed. Not only had she grown several inches, she also seemed more confident. Confident enough to call him stupid anyway.

Her mother joined them. She had just let her wand be checked by the watch-wizard.

"Coming, Fay?" she asked.

"Look, mum, look who it is!" Fay said, still holding Remus' sleeve. "See? I told you!"

"Remus!" Mrs Mills said. Remus was pleased to see that she was genuinely happy to see him. They shook hands.

"Is everything alright?" she asked. The look in her eyes told him that this question wasn't as simple as it seemed.

"Yes, I'm fine," he said.

"We read about, in the newspaper," she told him.

"Why were you in the newspaper?" Fay wanted to know.

"Because…" He looked at her mother, who almost unnoticeably shook her head. Fay was too young to be burdened with troubles like this. "Because I used to teach at Hogwarts."

She smiled. Of course, this was reason enough to be in the newspaper. Hogwarts was the height of cool. She had no idea yet how very unusual it was that a werewolf was even attending Hogwarts, let alone teaching there.

"And, what brings you here?" Remus asked.

Fay pointed at the badge pinned to her coat. _Fay Mills, Werewolf Registry_. "It's my birthday tomorrow," she said.

"Congratulations," he answered.

"Want to come along?" she asked.

"If you're not busy," her mother added quickly.

"Sure, I'll come, it's not like I have anything better to do at the moment."

They walked to the elevators. Fay excitedly skipped forwards and pressed the button. They waited for an elevator to clatter down, then got in with several other wizards and witches. Mrs Mills pressed the button for the fourth level.

The elevator was quiet for a few moments. The usual elevator-behaviour was displayed; people looked at the ceiling, at their feet, at the parchments their were holding. Fay smiled at Remus.

"Couldn't your father come?" he asked as their reached the sixth level.

"No, he had to work," she said.

"What kind of work does he do?"

"He works on an ambulance. Last week, there was somebody who had got under a train!"

"Fay!" her mother reprimanded.

"Well, it's _true_," she said defensively.

"That doesn't mean you should tell the whole elevator," she told her daughter sternly. The people around them grinned. They stopped at the fifth level, then the grille shut again and the elevator zoomed upwards again.

"Is Mummy taking you to work with her?" an elderly witch asked Fay in a rather patronising tone. Fay looked up and opened her mouth to answer.

"No, she's – " she began.

"Fourth level," Mrs Mills said quickly, as the elevator stopped. "Fay, are you coming?"

They wriggled themselves out of the elevator. Mrs Mills only relaxed when the box had disappeared again.

"What did I tell you about not telling other people?" she said.

"I'm sorry," Fay muttered, hanging her head.

"That's okay, dear," her mother said, pulling her closer into a hug.

"Ow, mum, no!" Fay fought herself free again. "Don't hug me!" Her mother laughed.

"Come on, let's go. I'll buy you ice cream afterwards."

"Yay!"

They walked to the Registry and went to stand in the queue that was always there. The room was filled with the noise of the animals people had taken here, to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, to be checked by a magical veterinarian. Remus had always found it a rather degrading experience to be standing in line with people bringing their pets to the veterinarian. As if he was going to ask 'hello, I need a vet. No, not for my pet, for myself'.

It took them ten minutes before they reached the front of the queue.

"I'm here for the Werewolf Registry," Mrs Mills said, quietly so that the rest of the queue wouldn't hear. "Fay Mills."

The witch behind the counter gave her the familiar form and a pencil. "Fill this in, then come back." Mrs Mills took the form, then the three of them went to find a vacant seat. Remus smiled when he remembered last year, when he had gone to the Registry himself and had met Lova, who was busy drawing over her form. _Was that only a year ago? _he wondered.

"Remus, we can sit here," Fay interrupted his thoughts. She pointed to two seats. Mrs Mills and Remus sat down, while Fay went to lean against Remus. Mrs Mills began filling in the form.

"Are they difficult questions?" Fay wanted to know.

"No, they're ridiculously easy," Remus said. "Like, where do you live, and things like that."

"Do they want to know that _every year_?"

"Yeah. Just so they know that you're still where they think you are."

She snorted. "Don't they think people will send them a note if they move somewhere else?"

"Apparently not."

"Stupid."

"Yep."

They watched in silence as Mrs Mills finished filling in the form, then they got up to return it to the witch behind the counter, who accepted it without a word. They walked to the elevator, and Fay pressed the button.

They were waiting for it to come down, when Remus saw, from the corner of his eye, a familiar person walk past. Romulus was talking animatedly with a young woman with brown hair in a plaid. She was just laughing over something Romulus had said, when he noticed his brother. He said something to the woman, who eyed Remus interestedly before nodding. She went on her way alone while Romulus walked towards the trio by the elevator.

"Finally," he said.

"What?" Remus said somewhat stiffly.

"Oh, nothing," replied Romulus airily, "except that Mum's begun writing obituaries."

"Oh, sod off," Remus said, annoyed. "I'm not dead yet."

"No, just unreachable. You might as well be dead."

"Who was that woman you were talking to?"

"A colleague. Don't change the subject."

"Hasn't it occurred to you that I might have a life of my own?"

"Has it occurred to _you_ that we, as your dear family, might like to be a part of that life?" He nodded to Fay and her mother. "You going to introduce me?"

"This is Mrs Mills and her daughter Fay," Remus said shortly. "This is my brother, Romulus."

"How do you do," Romulus said courteously as he shook Mrs Mills' hand.

"Fine, thank you."

He shook Fay's hand too. Like Remus, he was of the opinion that one shouldn't treat children over the age of roughly five as babies. If they can shake hands, they thought, shake their hands. They'll only hate you if you pat their heads.

"What are you doing here?" Fay wanted to know. Her mother sighed at this direct question.

"I work here," Romulus said. "And you?"

"I don't," she said, half sticking out her tongue. She pointed at her badge.

"Ah," Romulus said. "So it's your birthday soon?"

"Tomorrow," she beamed.

"Congratulations," he said. He turned to Remus. "Can I have a word with you soon?"

"Sure," Remus said, although he didn't like to.

"Yes, we'd better go," said Mrs Mills. "Come, Fay."

"Enjoy your ice cream," Remus said. Fay smiled.

"I will."

"And I'll send you a birthday card of course," he promised. This earned him another smile.

"And a present too?" she inquired, greedy like all children. Remus laughed.

"I think you'll get enough presents from your parents," he said. "Now shoo, go!"

She waved as she got on the elevator with her mother, and he waved back. She was waving until she got out of sight.

"Cute kid," Romulus commented.

"Werewolf," Remus said dryly.

"I know. Still a cute kid though."

Remus sighed. "What do you want?"

"How're you?" Romulus asked, a worried frown on his face.

"Did Mum wanted you to ask that?"

"Yes, but I'm not asking it because she asked me."

"How do you think?"

"Bad, that's what I think. After that piece in the _Daily Prophet_."

"I'm touched by your concern, "Remus said sarcastically. "I suppose you had comments from your dear colleagues. About the monster you have for a brother."

"To tell you the truth, they didn't say that."

"They didn't?" Remus raised his eyebrows. "I'm surprised."

"Stop being sarcastic, or I _will _think I have a monster for a brother," Romulus said darkly. "Actually, they were quite sympathetic."

"Gee, why do I have trouble believing that?"

Romulus gave a desperate sigh. "I hate it when you're like this."

"Now imagine everybody in the entire world acting like this, and then you know what my life is like."

Romulus had nothing to say to this. After a moment or so, Remus did began to feel a little sorry for his brother. Not enough to apologise, but enough to continue the conversation.

"How's Mum?" he asked.

"Sharpening her knifes to kill Umbridge, of course."

Remus smiled. "Are you allowed to say that of your superior?"

"She's not my superior anymore, first of all, and secondly, just because I'm working at the Registry doesn't mean I should love Umbridge."

"Tell me, I'm curious despite myself. Is it _enjoyable_ to kill werewolves?"

Romulus rolled his eyes. "God, I don't know who you hang out with nowadays, but you've got terribly immature. I haven't killed anybody, nor do I plan to, nor are we encouraged to kill them."

"Really."

"Yes, really. We only kill in absolute desperate situations, when we can't control the werewolf, or when he's attacking one of us and stunning is not an option, or when the werewolf is so hurt by angry villagers – it happens, you know – that killing him on the spot is kinder."

"You know, that sounds almost humane."

"It _is_, Remus. It is more humane than what some people want to do to werewolves. It might sound strange to you, but the Capture Unit looks kinder on werewolves than the average Joe. We _know_ that you're only dangerous during the full moon. But out there – " He pointed to the elevators to make his point, " – there's a stereotype of you running around with a chainsaw, eating little children for breakfast."

"Tell me about it," Remus muttered.

"I hate to say it, Remus," Romulus said, "but you're as prejudiced about the Capture Unit as other people are about you."

Remus swallowed. He realised his brother was right. But he hated to admit it.

"Am I right?" Romulus asked.

"Hmm… perhaps."

Romulus smiled, not fooled. "Thank you. Just needed to hear that."

Remus glared. "But only this time."

"Of course, the rest of the time _you_ are right. That's why you're the big brother and I'm the baby."

"Exactly."

"Coming back to my first question," Romulus said, turning serious again. "Where were you? Not that I want to come over for tea every Sunday afternoon, but every owl we send comes back with its letters unopened."

"Oh. Err…"

"Listen," Romulus patted his brother on the shoulder. "You don't have to tell me right away. Just tell me this. Is it anything dangerous?"

"No. Yes. Sort of."

"Illegal?"

Remus had to think about this for a minute. It _was_ not strictly legal. But could the law Fudge represented be considered right? "It's… not exactly legal," he said carefully. "But it's good."

"Has it anything to do with the reason you're hanging around Kingsley Shacklebolt?"

"Yes."

"Can you die from it?"

"I can, yes," Remus said gravely.

"I already suspected that," Romulus sighed. "Will you tell me later what it is?"

"Yes, I will," Remus promised.

"Okay. Thanks. Now, want to come with me? I'll introduce you to all my colleagues. You'll like them. Especially Hazel, she reminds me a lot of you."

"Romulus…" Remus said softly, smiling a little.

"What?" said Romulus, realising what he had said. "That was only a slightly stupid suggestion."

"You know, I've been thinking it a long time," Remus said, "but this just proves it."

"Proves what?"

"That one of us is adopted. And I think it's you."

"Obviously," said Romulus. "And my parents are a king and a queen. I'm royalty."

"On second thought, I'm the one who's adopted."

"Remus, are you trying to steal my throne?"

"That's what brothers are supposed to do, aren't they?"

* * *

"He actually thought you'd like them?" Sirius asked, frowning.

"Well, yeah. Kept going on about this Hazel-person, until I began to fear that he was trying to hook me up with her."

"It's just wrong, you know. Liking the people at the Werewolf Capture Unit. It's like… it's like liking Snape!"

"I like Snape," Remus said softly. Sirius' eyes widened in horror.

"No you don't!"

"Well, sometimes."

"Exactly. You _sometimes_ like Snape. You like him, what, five seconds every six months. You like him for five seconds until he says something ridiculous or insulting again, and then you're back to disliking him." Sirius gave a fake gasp. "Oh my God, Remus, you like Snapefor _ten whole seconds a year_!"

Remus rolled his eyes. "You know what Kingsley told me today?"

"That he likes Snape too?"

"Actually, he called me Snape today, but that's another story. No, he showed me a testimony by Lucius Malfoy, that you're not in Russia but in London."

This shut Sirius up. "Oh."

"Yes, oh. Apparently, he has decided to do something with the fact that he saw you at King's Cross. He gave a list with people who say they've seen you too, and Kingsley's now checking them, to find out exactly who they are."

"Death Eaters," Sirius said.

"Yes, that's why I'm afraid too."

"Shit," Sirius scolded. He kicked the kitchen table.

"And I suggested asking Snape whether he knows any of these people."

"I bet he does," Sirius said disgustedly, "if they're Death Eaters, Snivellus is bound to know them."

"Call him Snape, please."

Sirius sighed. "And I suppose I'm going to have to stay indoors?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. We can't risk you going out again."

"I suppose so." Sirius glared at the poor innocent table. "I can't wait until I get my hands on Peter again. I'll give him just enough time to tell the truth to anybody willing to listen, then I'll kill him. Slowly and _very_ painfully."


	10. The Werewolf Capture Unit

**Sorry for it being so late, I was rather busy the past few weeks - Christmas, New Year, HBP release date... ;) **

**There is some strong language and gore in this, but, as Jo Rowling said; You are writing children's books, you need to be a ruthless killer. **

**Have fun. Or something... Quote's from Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them, btw.**

**

* * *

****Early October, 1995.**

"… _werewolves, meanwhile, have been shunted between the Beast and the Being divisions of many years; at the time of writing there is an office for Werewolf Support Services at the Being Division whereas the Werewolf Registry and Werewolf Capture Unit fall under the Beast Division." _

_

* * *

Dear Remus,_

_Mum said that I should write you to thank you for the birthday card you send me. I really liked the card, the picture on it with the dragon was funny. I pinned it on the wall above my bed, with all the other cards. _

_I got a lot of presents, like books and new colouring pencils. I really like to draw, and I do it a lot. I made a drawing of my cat, Tommy – it's at the bottom of this letter. _

_I hope I'll see you again soon. _

_Bye._

_Fay._

Tommy was black and white, and apparently had large pencil-coloured whiskers. Fay had drawn his ears slightly lopsided, but apart from that the drawing was rather good. Remus put the letter back in the envelope and then the envelope in his pocket which was fit to burst with letters. Romulus had been right; his parents had send him a lot of letters, and most of them could be summarised with "where are you?!"

He was back in Derbyshire again, for a few hours only, to pick up letters, water the plants and do other things that needed to be done even though he was living in another house.

He hung his coat on one of the pegs on the wall and began walking from room to room to inspect, to be sure that everything was as he had left it, except slightly dustier.

From what he could see, everything was fine. None of the plants had died, and nothing was stolen or whatever. Just… somehow, something seemed wrong. It was only when he was about to get up the stairs, that he realised what exactly it was.

Monster wasn't following him around.

He had always associated his house with the little furball bouncing up and down the stairs, or scurrying from room to room looking for things to eat. It was oddly silent around him; the only thing he could hear were his own footsteps. It was a realisation that made him feel surprisingly lonely.

"Perhaps I should get myself a new pet," he said aloud. "Maybe another cat. Padfoot would like that. Of course, I'm not sure whether a cat would like Padfoot…"

He walked up the stairs, checked on his bedroom, bathroom and study, then went down again to check on the basement and the large cage in it. It would be a full moon in a week, and though he would drink the Wolfsbane Potion, he'd rather have a cage nearby to lock himself in than risk running out and biting or eating people. But everything was as it should be, thankfully.

He watered the plants, made sure that he got every letter that had been send to him, then he walked outside and carefully locked the door. He took one last look at his house, and then he Apparated back to London.

* * *

Sometimes Remus had to admit; there was a certain _style_ to the way Snape insulted people. He had 'improved' since his schooldays. Back then, he spat his insults. Now he offered them with an almost silky voice, a smirk on his face. Really, if you didn't know better you'd think he was complimenting you. Except that "Oh, I'm sure that cleaning the Headquarters is an, ehm, really important job. You're vital, Black, really, you are" was hardly a compliment in the tone he used.

Snape relished in it. Hardly the forgiving kind, he thoroughly enjoyed finally having Sirius at his mercies. He knew as well as Sirius did that this time, it was Snape who was important, who was vital, while Sirius was literally good-for-nothing except cleaning.

And it rather spoiled the meetings for the Order of the Phoenix.

It had happened again this meeting. Snape had been telling about the last time Voldemort had given orders to him and his fellow Death Eaters - without giving details, he never gave details. Only Dumbledore knew exactly what was going on. Nevertheless, Snape always managed to come across as way important. The great lines were depressing enough, however. The Dark Lord, as Snape called him, was getting closer and closer to discovering exactly what was in the Department of Mysteries. Also, his group of Death Eaters grew almost as fast as the Order of the Phoenix, even though they were working undercover.

The meeting had just ended, and Arthur and Bill were busy putting away the scrolls. Remus was sitting on the far side of the table, next to Sirius, who was glaring at Snape. The Potions Master annex spy was rather innocently putting on his cloak, ignoring Sirius.

"God, I hate him," Sirius said.

"Everybody knows that by now," Remus answered, sighing inaudibly.

Snape fastened his cloak, then turned around to face Sirius and Remus. There was a smirk on his face that made Remus fear the worst.

"Well, I'll go now," the greasy-haired man said. "Black, good luck. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. We all depend on you, you know."

"Go fck yourself, Snivellus," Sirius said loudly. Molly looked scandalized. Snape pulled up one eyebrow, smirking even more.

"Charming," he said dryly. "Oh, Lupin. This is yours." He threw a flask at Remus, who caught it gingerly. Even though the rest of the Order courteously never commented on him drinking the Wolfsbane Potion, he wasn't going to show it off either.

"Thanks," he said. Snape nodded curtly, then he swept out of the kitchen.

"Greasy git," Sirius muttered.

"Just stop insulting him," Remus said, knowing that his advice was in vain. But it wouldn't hurt trying, would it?

"You staying here for the fully moon?" Sirius asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"Well..." Remus began hesitantly.

"Please?"

This changed matters. Sirius had never openly begged for Remus to stay. It had always been a kind of nagging; asking if he would stay at Grimmauld Place and sulking if Remus refused. The word 'please' had never entered the conversation.

"Sirius, you know why I don't want to – " he protested.

"Okay, fine, then don't." Sirius sighed and rolled his eyes demonstratively. "Just thought that you might want to. There won't be anybody around here anyway, I personally don't see the risk, but if _you_ think it's better…" He had skilfully put the problem with Remus; Sirius wasn't being too rash or anything, it was rather Remus who was being too careful. And now Remus felt guilty, of course.

"You sure there won't be anybody around?"

"Moony, there's _never_ anybody around," Sirius said. "Besides, the house's big enough to fit a werewolf too."

"Not so loud," said Remus through clenched teeth. "The other's don't need to hear." Not that _that _was likely – Molly and Bill were making dinner, Arthur and Kingsley were discussing the Ministry and Fudge, and Tonks and Dung were playing a rather enthusiastic game of Exploding Snap.

"So, you're staying?" Sirius inquired.

"Hmm…" Remus stretched his time some more. "Okay, I'm staying."

"What's the condition?"

Remus raised his eyebrows. "What makes you think there'd be a condition?"

"I know you, Moony," Sirius said, grinning, "and there's always a condition. It's always 'okay, but…' I remember our first Charms lesson. I asked you if you wanted to sit next to me, and you said 'okay, but could you clean away you books and quills then?' Even _then_ you had a condition."

"Well, you _had_ made a mess of that desk."

"Moony, that wasn't a mess, it was simply using space that was otherwise wasted."

Remus frowned as if to say 'uhuh, sure…' "Anyway," he said. "I'll stay at Grimmauld Place, but under one condition – "

"Let's hear it."

"I don't want _anyone _to enter the room while I'm… in my wolf-form. _Nobody_. No, not even Kreacher. Even with the Wolfsbane Potion, I don't want to run the risk. I'll lock the door, and I forbid you to unlock it and come it to see whether I'm Changed already."

"Fair enough."

"Fair enough?!" Remus said, pretending to be horrified. "Oh my God, _who are you_? What have you done to Sirius?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, but laughed nonetheless.

* * *

Remus felt nervous when he locked the door behind him on the night of the full moon. He was all too aware of the house behind that door, around him. Only Sirius and Kreacher were there, but that were more people – individuals, beings, whatever – than he was used to. It felt as if he was bringing a very aggressive dog in the house of which he wasn't sure he could control it.

He limped towards the desk (_damn leg_), to the goblet of Wolfsbane Potion. The stench of it hung in the room and made him feel sick. He doubted whether Sirius would even smell it.

He drained the goblet, then turned and limped to the bed. He took off his clothes and sat down. He shivered, not with cold, but because the wolf in him already stirred, ready to come out. The hair – fur? – on his arms and legs already stood on end.

The first break always came as a surprise. He gasped as the small bones in his feet snapped. He reflexively reached for his head as his teeth elongated and his face turned into a snout, but he could barely hold his own head because his hands had turned into claws. He arched his back and could just hold in a scream – _don't scream, whatever you do don't scream!_ – as his body forced a thick brown fur out of his sweaty skin. He fell off the bed and crouched on all fours. His mouth opened in a silent scream when he grew a tail.

Ten minutes later, there was a fully grown werewolf crouched on the floor.

* * *

"Are you nervous?"

"Would you believe it when I said I wasn't?"

"No."

Romulus smiled feebly at his colleague. The elder wizard, Christoph, nodded reassuringly at him.

"We're all nervous the first time," he said. "I remember my first time. I nearly pissed myself."

"Meaning that you nearly wet yourself or that you drank too much Firewhiskey?" Nicholas, another wizard, asked loudly and cheerfully.

"Both!" Christoph laughed.

The atmosphere was strangely relaxed at the Headquarters of the Werewolf Capture Unit. Like every month, every member of the Unit would spend the night there, to be ready when they heard the alarm, which meant that they had to come into action. Until then, there was nothing to do but waiting, reading a bit, dozing on one of the four bunk beds, or even joking around.

"What do you call someone who has been a wolf?" Nicholas asked Hazel. She rolled her eyes.

"That one's lame," she said.

"A _were_wolf," Nicholas said the answer nonetheless. "What does a werewolf do when you tell him a joke?"

"He howls with laughter," Anthony sighed distractedly from behind his magazine.

"Obviously not one of your jokes, Nicholas," Christoph said. He got up to get himself and Romulus another cup of coffee.

"Oh, I feel appreciated now," Nicholas huffed.

"We do appreciate you," Hazel said, patting his head jokingly. "Every group needs a comic relief."

"Except that you're not comic nor a relief," came Emily's voice sleepily from one of the top bunk beds. The others grinned.

It was the usual way of spending the night. Romulus had been really surprised the first night of the full moon he had spend here. He had expected – he wasn't sure what he had expected actually. The entire unit constantly concentrated, practising stunning spells or something. More like an army ready for action. This, on the contrary, seemed more like a group of people who were thrown together because they happened to all come to the help of people who were attacked by werewolves.

Their motivations to do this work greatly differed too. Romulus was doing it because he wanted to help the werewolves, who couldn't help being what they were. Anthony, on the other hand, had initially joined out of revenge; his brother had been mauled by a werewolf. Hazel had told Romulus that, when she had heard about this, she had innocently asked Anthony what he meant with 'mauled'. Anthony had answered that it meant that they had thought it wiser to leave the lid of the coffin shut during the vigil. He had joined the Capture Unit only weeks later. His lust for revenge had only lasted three months, until he had seen the other side of the coin, the curse the werewolves lived under and the immense feeling of guilt some had.

Christoph and Emily had joined because they had been offered a promotion. Both of them had worked at the normal Control of Magical Animals office, but as they had got older, they had found the constant work rather taxing, so they had gladly accepted the work at the Werewolf Capture Unit. One could of course argue that this work was even more taxing; werewolves were among the most dangerous animals to work with. But the Capture Unit only really worked once a month, and although that one night was so dangerous that measured up to a month of doxy-catching or griffin-taming, the rest of the month was really relaxed. The experience they brought in was useful too, and at 78 and 63, Christoph and Emily weren't likely to begin fooling around and putting their lives on the line.

Then there were Hazel and Nicholas. Hazel had joined because she had always had, as she put it, an interest in werewolves. She didn't really know why. She had thought the Registry too boring and involving too much paperwork, and the Werewolf Support Services had sounded too much like spending days with group therapy. Her talent for potions was nothing to write home about, and she didn't feel like sitting around and doing research either, so the Capture Unit had seemed like a logical choice. And as for Nicholas… Nobody was really sure why he had joined. Maybe he liked the adventure. He was the clown of the group, but while he was constantly joking around he was also one to be relied on. He might be annoyingly cheerful, telling stupid jokes, he would never let anybody get hurt if he could help it.

"Where's Elisabeth, by the way?" Emily asked, sitting up on her bed.

"She said she'd come a little later," Anthony said. "She didn't say why."

"We have another hour at least," Christoph said calmly. The moon would come up in half an hour.

Elisabeth was the leader of the group, the Alpha wolf of their pack as Nicholas called it. She used to work in Africa, studying and controlling Nundu's, Runespoors and Tebo's. But she had wanted to spend more time with her family, so she had accepted a job in England. Because of her experience with dangerous animals and vast amount of knowledge, the rest of the group naturally accepted her as their leader.

"I do hope it's going to be a calm night," Emily said. "I don't feel like fighting six werewolves."

"I fought twelve in the same night once," Anthony said conversationally.

"Does that happen a lot?" Romulus said, slightly nervous.

"Not often. Summer's the busiest time of the year," Hazel told him. "A lot of people staying outdoors until late in the evening. Like leaving dinner on the doorstep, for a werewolf."

"And when the moon's closer to the earth," Emily said. "Normal people only notice it because of the spring tide, but we notice it because all the werewolves suddenly get hyperactive."

"Sugar high," Nicholas said.

"Sugar?" came an amused voice. "They eat us with pepper, a pinch of salt and some ketchup maybe, but sugar?"

"Ah, Elisabeth," Christoph said, as their leader walked in. "We were wondering what took you so long."

"The grandchildren demanded a story," Elisabeth said, "and who am I to refuse?"

Elisabeth looked like the stereotype of a werewolfhunter. The Muggle in Romulus had compared her to Abraham van Helsing in _Bram Stoker's Dracula _(he had seen the movie several times, mainly to laugh at the werewolf and because he liked vampires. Julia had tagged along every time, but she went to ogle at Dracula himself…). Elisabeth's hair was grey and usually covered by a hat, a habit she had developed in Africa. She wore comfortable leather boots and a long leather coat with a row of huge fangs. The fangs were fake – to get a real werewolf-tooth, one would have to pull one from the mouth of a living werewolf, and who would be stupid enough to do that? But, as had been explained to Romulus, they had an image to uphold. And it _was_ impressive to see the Capture Unit walk through the corridors of the Ministry, Elisabeth in front. The rest of the people at the Ministry believed they were looking death in the fanged face every month ("bad idea," according to Nicholas, "since they usually have very bad breath") and didn't want to hear about them reading bedtime stories to grandchildren.

"Everything quiet so far?" Elisabeth asked.

"Aye, aye," Nicholas said. "The first five minutes have passed without incidents."

She smiled. "Let's hope the rest of the evening will pass just as quiet." She looked at Romulus. "Everything all right?"

"So far, yes," he answered.

* * *

Moony got up from the small carpet and began walking around the room. The bedroom smelled different than usual. It smelled like… humans. To the wolf in him, the furniture smelled as though somebody had covered it with the smell of food. He eagerly sniffed the desk, until he remembered that it might not be a good idea to start gnawing the antique desk.

He turned and looked around the room. He was bored, actually. At home, he had a whole house to walk around. Here, he only had this room. And it was his own choice.

_Well, at least I won't eat anybody_, he told himself.

* * *

It had been eleven o'clock. Romulus had just won a game of chess from Nicholas, when an alarm began ringing almost deafeningly. His heart stopped for a moment. Not just because of shock, because the alarm had begun ringing so suddenly, but because he suddenly realised that this was it.

He was going to face a real, angry and bloodthirsty werewolf for the first time in his life.

"_Finally_," Nicholas said, and quickly got up to get his coat. The rest of them routinely stopped with what they had been doing and got ready to leave. Hazel walked to a sort of machine which had been connected to the alarm and pulled out a slip of parchment.

"We're going to Warwickshire," she said, reading the slip.

"Get ready to Apparate!" Elisabeth called. Emily hastily put Romulus' cloak on him (he was too nervous to fasten it himself), then, on Elisabeth's sign, they Apparated.

They ended up in a forest. A few yards away, through the trees, Romulus could see houses. He faintly noticed screaming in the distance.

"Christoph, go ask what's the matter," Elisabeth ordered. "Wands out. Hazel, look after him."

Hazel took Romulus by the sleeve before he had time to ask what Elisabeth meant. "Stay close to me," she said.

Christoph returned moments later with a woman in tow. She looked shocked, but sighed with relief when she saw the Capture Unit.

"Thank Merlin!" she said.

"What happened? What are we looking for?" Elisabeth said sharply. There was no time for chit-chat.

"A werewolf," the woman said, wide-eyed. Nicholas made a 'duh'-movement with his head, but Emily nudged him.

"Who's missing?" Christoph asked gently.

"Two Muggle children. They had gone out to play, but didn't return. And then I heard a wolf crying, and I realised it was a full moon…" She trailed off and covered her face with her hands.

"Thank you." Elisabeth turned to the others. Her face was set; she had already planned what to do, and had nearly forgotten the woman. "Nicholas, Anthony, you two go left, Emily and I will go to the right, Hazel and Romulus, stay in the middle. We're going to try and close him in. Christoph, you can go back with Mrs…"

"Stevenson."

"- back to her home. Try and comfort the parents, prepare them for a tragic loss. The others can come with me."

Hazel pulled Romulus forwards, deeper into the forest. To their left, they could hear Nicholas sing loudly. He was singing 'A pirate's life for me' at the top of his voice.

"Aren't we supposed to be quiet?" Romulus asked.

"Of course not," Hazel said, absentmindedly because she was looking carefully around. She had her wand lit. "We want to get noticed. Instead of looking left and right in a dark forest, it's much easier for the werewolf to come our way."

"Drink up me hearties!" Nicholas sang.

"Of course, Nicholas has his own special way of getting noticed."

As they walked on, the forest got darker. Only here and there, there were bright patches, from the moonlight shining through the trees. Save for the sound of the others from the Capture Unit – Nicholas was still singing, and Elisabeth and Emily were chatting as if they weren't about to face a werewolf – it was quiet. A foreboding sort of silence.

"Why did Elisabeth tell Christoph to prepare the parents for a tragic loss?"

"The chances of a Muggle child surviving in a forest with a werewolf are about two percent, that's why."

Romulus swallowed. "What are the other odds?"

"About five to six percent for a wizard child – sometimes, when they're lucky, they get so scared that they accidentally use their magic to repel the werewolf. The odds are slightly better for a Muggle adult – twelve to fifteen percent. A full-grown wizard has the most chance – up to twenty percent, especially if he has a wand. Of course, that is only surviving. It doesn't make a distinction between surviving with all your limbs intact or with… only one arm or something."

As Romulus nervously looked around, he was suddenly reminded of something. He had been thinking of Remus all night anyway, but he suddenly remembered that his brother had been only five and a half when he had been in a forest just like this one. But Remus hadn't had a wand, or six others to back him up. He had been completely helpless.

_He was only five and a half_. _Only five to six percent of the wizard children survive… _

"Wait." Hazel stopped him with another pull of his sleeve. Romulus stopped abruptly. He suddenly noticed the hairs on his back stood on end.

"What?" he breathed. He feared he was about to soil himself. It didn't help much that Hazel had a concentrated frown on her face. She nodded to a group of trees on their left.

"Oh God," he mouthed, as he saw that the trees shook almost unnoticeably.

"_FINALLY!" _Hazel suddenly screamed.

What happened next went all a little to fast for Romulus' brain to cope with. Alarmed by her scream, the werewolf suddenly leaped forward, lunging at the noisy human to silence her. Hazel pointed her wand at him and shouted a repelling charm. The werewolf was suddenly thrown backwards.

Anthony and Nicholas had meanwhile waded through the undergrowth towards Hazel and Romulus, just like Elisabeth and Emily.

"Just stun him!" Elisabeth barked. "Emily, go find the victims!" The werewolf had scrambled to his paws again and, hearing her voice, lunged at her now. She made a broad sweep with her wand as if waving a duelling sword. It seemed as if she had reached out with a long arm and slapped the werewolf to the side.

"Oh that's nice, send it our way!" Nicholas shouted. The anger in his voice was fake; he had a large grin on his face and the adrenaline surged through his veins. The werewolf opened his mouth, baring his huge fangs. He roared angrily.

"Yes, come here, big stinker!" Nicholas screamed, daring.

"For God's sake – !" Anthony began, standing right behind Nicholas. But before he could finish his sentence, the werewolf had already crouched down and suddenly launched himself towards Nicholas. Nicholas screamed, but not out of fear. It was out of sheer excitement, to overscream the werewolf. A second before the wolf would hit him, he deftly stepped out of the way, with the grace and experience of a bull fighter.

Anthony was standing ready, his wand pointed at the werewolf. The moment Nicholas had stepped to the side, Anthony shouted a stunning spell. At the same moment, Nicholas had whirled around and send the same spell at the werewolf's back. Hit from both sides, the werewolf hit the ground heavily, then lay completely still, frozen.

"Wow," Nicholas said, breathing heavily. His eyes glittered, and beads of sweat shone on his face. "That was pretty exciting."

Anthony walked towards the werewolf, put a foot on its back and placed the tip of his wand against its neck. He muttered a charm, and the werewolf suddenly went completely limp.

"Thanks for the warning you didn't give me," he said sourly to Nicholas.

"Sorry, got a bit carried away."

"Well, we got him, that's the most important part," said Elisabeth matter-of-factly. "Turn him over."

Nicholas and Anthony both bowed down and rolled the stunned werewolf on his back. Mud and wet leaves still stuck to its chest and claws. It looked like… well, a monster finally brought down.

"Wow, big boy," Nicholas said.

"Must be over six feet, normally," Anthony commented expertly. "I guess he's over seven feet now, from head to toe, maybe even close to eight feet."

"How come they're bigger in… in wolf-form?" Romulus stood slightly behind the others, feeling uncomfortable to get closer to the werewolf.

"They walk on their toes instead on their flat feet. Like a dog, really," Elisabeth lectured. "And their spine gets longer."

"Odd thought, that your brother looks like this, no?" Nicholas said conversationally.

"Nick!" Hazel said sharply.

"What? Oh, does that upset you?" he asked Romulus. Romulus shook his head. No, it didn't really upset him, but it _was_ a strange thought.

"See?" Nicholas told Hazel. "And it's the truth anyway."

"Just because it's the truth doesn't mean you should just say it," she said sourly.

"Yeah. Like, it's a truth that you're annoying, but we don't say it," came Anthony. "Oh wait, we do."

"Could I get a hand here?" Emily called.

"Of course." Elisabeth cursed herself under her breath for forgetting her. "Anthony, keep an eye on the werewolf. The others can come with me."

They walked through the undergrowth to Emily. She was crouched next to two small forms which lay together, half-hidden under a bush. The two forms were huddled together, as if they had just fallen asleep.

"And?" Elisabeth asked when they had reached them.

"Dead," Emily said. She touched the smallest body almost tenderly. "He ripped the throats out, tore the jaw off the eldest – "

Elisabeth had crouched down too and gently turned the small body around. Blood had splattered the little green jacket, and the scarf around the neck had been torn away. There was no throat left, except bloody shards of flesh. The eyes of the little child were still open, but they were staring ahead, seeing nothing.

"Mind the left arm, it's half torn off," Emily warned. Elisabeth took the left hand in her own and squeezed it softly.

"Em, go back to the Ministry, get a squad of Obliviators and notify the Office of Misinformation. Tell them what happened, they can sort out what to tell the parents."

"Romulus?" Hazel asked suddenly. She had looked around to see where he was.

Romulus was leaning against a tree, his mouth open in case vomit decided to come out. He was feeling extremely dizzy. All he could think of was that little jacket – _Thirza has the same size _– splattered with blood, and those blank, wide-open eyes.

"Oh Merlin, you're not going to throw up, are you?" Nicholas asked, a worried tone in his voice. "I can't stand people throwing up."

"Emily, I think you'd better take him with you," Elisabeth said. "This was enough action for him."

Hazel patted Romulus on the back. "There, there. You can go home now, you heard that? It'll be okay."

"They're only so small," Romulus muttered, fighting back his feeling of nausea.

"I know, I know," Hazel said soothingly. "Come, you can go back to the Ministry with Emily, and… and try and get some sleep. Or go home, even. We won't blame you for it."

"After all, even Christoph pissed himself on his first time," came Nicholas.

"Nicholas, go to Anthony and tell him to get that werewolf to the Ministry as well," Elisabeth ordered. "Stop lazing about!"

"Yes, ma'am."

Emily had spread a blanket over the two children. She got to her feet and carefully wiped the dirt from her trousers. "And what are you going to do?" she asked.

"Lend Christoph a hand," Elisabeth said. "Listen, when you've been to the Misinformation, come back immediately."

"I know," Emily smiled. "I've done it before, you know. Come," she beckoned Romulus. "Let the others do the dirty work." She patted his arm. "Can you Apparate?"

Romulus nodded mutely.

"Good. Let's go then."

The last thing he saw where the bracing smiles of Elisabeth and Hazel. Seconds later, he was back in the Headquarters of the Unit. Everything was still as they had left it. The chess pieces were still waiting for his and Nicholas' second game.

"Go and lie down for a minute," Emily said, gently pushing him towards the bunk beds. "I have to go, but I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Okay," he croaked. She nodded, smiling approvingly – he was going to be fine after all – then left to get a few Obliviators.

Romulus walked slowly towards the beds, and sat down on one of the bottom beds. "Good Merlin," he muttered. "Bloody hell." He stared at his hands, curved them for a moment into claws. He couldn't for the life of him imagine tearing two children to pieces, but that was what had happened this evening. Someone innocent – someone like Remus, perhaps, just as nice and big-brotherly and silly and kind – had ripped the throats of two children who had just stayed out too long. He slumped back on the bed, staring at the bottom of the bed above him.

Remus tearing out the throats of Thirza and Ralph, maiming their warm, little bodies.

"Bloody hell, what have I got myself into?" he muttered, bewildered.

* * *

"You okay?" Sirius poked his head around the door of Remus' room. It was seven o'clock in the morning, and he figured that his friend would have Changed back by now.

"Damn it, Padfoot!"

Sirius saw Remus' head, the greying hair standing every-which-way, appear from behind the bed, look wildly at him, then disappear again. A few seconds later, Remus appeared again, leaning with his elbows on the bed and supporting his head with his hands.

"You okay?" Sirius repeated.

"Yes, all fine and dandy," Remus muttered sarcastically. "Can I kill somebody?"

"Snape's coming round again this evening, so be my guest."

"No, let's not," Remus said. He scratched his head. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry." Sirius made to walk into the room, but Remus stopped him.

"Just… let me get dressed first, okay?" He felt around on the bed for as far as he could reach while sitting on the floor. He found his pyjamas and quickly put them on. "I'm not in the mood to start mooning you. And keep all those Moony-comments to yourself."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Sirius said.

"You'd better." Remus heaved himself off the floor and sat down on the bed. "At least one good thing of staying here. The bed's in the same room."

"So you're staying here again next month?" Sirius said. He sat down on the bed as well.

"For God's sake, Padfoot," Remus groaned. "That's four weeks away, thank Merlin. I don't want to think about that right now, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good."

They were silent for a few moments. Remus was leaning back against the headboard, his eyes closed. In Sirius' eyes, he looked downright tortured.

Sirius was just contemplating going downstairs and bring Remus breakfast, when Remus said: "oh, I think we should check the plumbing up here."

"Why?"

"I heard this buzzing all night long. I'm not sure it's the plumbing, but I wouldn't know what else it could be."

"Buzzing?" Sirius said, frowning.

"Yeah. I've never heard it before, but then again, I've never had such good ears as tonight."

"I'll look into it," Sirius promised. He sighed inwardly. Another 'useful' task he'd rather not be doing. "Now, can I get you some breakfast?"

"Tea and toast, just tea and toast, please," Remus said softly. He didn't think his stomach could take more at the moment.

"One portion of tea and toast, or two?" Sirius joked. Remus scowled but didn't think this comment worthy of a reply. "Breakfast coming right up, I'll be right back."

"I'm not going anywhere," Remus promised. He had his eyes closed again, so he didn't see Sirius leave, but he heard the door close. He sighed. If he were Sirius, he would say that changing into a werewolf and back again wasn't just a pain in the ass, but in the rest of his body as well. He smiled a little. _Actually, that was pretty funny. _

He abruptly opened his eyes when he heard the buzzing again. He had never heard it before when he was in his normal, human, Remus-form. Actually, it was more a humming, or a soft growling. He looked around to see where it was coming from. If it was the plumbing, it should come from his bathroom (the luxury, his own private little bathroom…), but it didn't. It came from very close to him.

"My bedside table doesn't hum," he muttered distractedly. "And my bed doesn't either. Not that I know, anyway." He had just said that when he realised it _was_ coming from his bed. From right under him, in fact. He frowned. _Don't let it be Kreacher. No, he wouldn't hum. Maybe it's a Boggart… another one… _

Only one way to find out. He crouched on the bed, then stuck his head over the edge and looked under it. He narrowed his eyes to be able to see in the darkness. There was nothing but a lot of dust and a pair of socks he thought he'd lost.

The humming had stopped for a moment, but the second he looked under the bed, it started louder than ever. Remus looked in the direction it was coming from, and his mouth would have dropped had his head not been upside-down. There, in a corner, covered in dust, sat a small custard-coloured furball, purring at him.

"Monster?!"


	11. Dung's news

**October 1995.**  
_"The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams – "__  
__"Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?" _

* * *

"So… what exactly do you feed… this?" Tonks leaned on the table, resting her head on her arms. She was looking interestedly at Monster, who politely pretended he didn't notice. 

"Leftovers, usually," Remus said. "And it's a Puffskein."

"I can't believe you never had one," Bill said. "We had a whole herd."

"Yes, until your brothers decided they wanted to be Beaters," Molly added shortly. She shooed her son away. "Let me set the table!"

"I think it's really very cute," Tonks commented. She scratched the top of Monster's head (to be fair, he seemed all head) with one finger. Monster immediately abandoned all dignity and purred like mad. "If it ever has offspring, can I have one too?"

"I'd have to get him a little Monster wife first," Remus said pensively. "And I'm not sure, actually, how Puffskeins breed…"

"They bear life young," Bill said expertly. "About twelve in a litter. But they're so tiny, the first week or so, that Mum usually _vacuumed_ them all!" He glared accusingly at his mother.

"Well, they are tiny," she said defensively. "And they look like bits of dust."

"I know," he said, grinning. "Don't worry 'bout it."

"We had too many of them anyway," she said, but she smiled at the memory. "Remember that time when Ron managed to smuggle about sixteen of them into his bedroom and raise them all?"

"You mean the summer of the Puffskeins?" Bill burst into laughing. His mother laughed as well.

"Summer of the Puffskeins?" Tonks repeated curiously.

"They breed extremely quick," Arthur explained. He had been studying a sheet of parchment with a map on it, but the conversation proofed too interesting. "Like rabbits, really. So with the sixteen Ron had, and the six or so we already had…"

"Let's just say that by the end of the summer, we had about sixty," Bill finished his father's sentence.

"Nobody dared visit us anymore, half of Ottery St Catchpole already had a Puffskein of ours."

"Sadly, most of them died during the winter," Bill sighed.

"Well, if you ever get sixty Puffskeins again, I'd love to have one," Tonks said.

"If we ever have sixty again, we'll give you twenty of them. See how you like them then," Molly said.

She and Bill set the table for breakfast. Remus picked up Monster and put him on the floor. Monster hummed and scooted over to Sirius. Sirius hadn't said ten words together in the past two hours, and even now he said nothing as he picked Monster up from the floor and put him on his lap.

"I don't want animals on the table," Molly warned him.

"I'm not completely barbaric," Sirius said, annoyed. "I know that."

Tonks and Remus exchanged glances. Sirius had been in a bad mood the last few days, and Molly reprimanding him didn't exactly improve it. And they spend so little time at Grimmauld Place that the last thing they wanted was a huge, blazing row.

"Don't you want a Puffskein?" Tonks asked Sirius. "To infest the house with?"

Sirius smiled weakly. "And wake up in the middle of the night to find that thirty or so are trying to eat from my nose?"

"Who knows, that might just be a really… interesting… experience," Bill said.

Molly set the breakfast on the table, and they began eating. For a moment, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of cutlery on porcelain plates or the coffee-pot being picked up and put back on the table.

Remus abruptly raised his head when he heard a soft 'click' upstairs.

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

"I think someone just closed the door."

"Oh bollocks, let's hope my Mum doesn't begin," Sirius scowled.

"Language," Molly warned, purely out of habit – as always, Sirius ignored her.

"Can you hear who it is?" he asked Remus.

"If you're quiet." Remus pricked up his ears and listened intently. If he concentrated hard enough, it was almost as if he was standing in the dark hallway. He could hear footsteps, and a distant scurrying and muttering. That's probably Kreacher.

"I think it's Dung," he said. "I hear someone say 'thieves, filthy thieves', and that's probably Kreacher."

"Never thought that elf would come in useful one day," Sirius commented coolly.

The door to the kitchen opened and Mundungus came stomping down the stairs. He looked rather surprised when he saw that they weren't surprised to see him – he hadn't said he'd come.

"'S'up?" he said.

"Hey Dung," said Tonks.

"Kreacher left you alone, I hope?" Sirius said sharply.

"Yeah, 'e did." Dung said down and reached for the coffee pot.

"What are you doing here?" Molly asked a bit too sharply to be polite.

"Just visiting!" Dung said, his eyes widening. He seemed utterly shocked that somebody could be not so pleased about seeing him.

"You're never just visiting, Mundungus," she said. "What is it this time?"

"You've got news about Harry, don't you?" Sirius said. "You were in Hogsmeade on Saturday. Did you see him?"

"Yessir," Dung said, proudly. He finally did something right. He had looked after Harry. There were no mishaps, like last summer.

"How is he?" Remus asked the question before Sirius could.  
"'e's fine, 'e's fine. I saw him in the Hog's Head with a load of other kids – "

"_What?!_" Pretty much everybody in the room jumped on Mundungus. The crook hadn't expected his words to have this much effect, and he nearly literally jumped.

"What was Harry doing in the Hog's Head?" Sirius said sharply.

"Was Ginny there as well?" Molly demanded to know.

"And Ron?" Arthur added. They weren't that concerned about the twins – as long as they weren't spending time and money at Zonko's, it was pretty much fine with their parents.

"Yes and yes," Dung said, looking ready to cover his head with his arms, in case Molly decided to get violent. Arabella Figg had taught him that women weren't as vulnerable as they looked, especially if they were carrying a bag with cat food.

"What were they doing there?" Sirius repeated. "Don't tell me you don't know!"

"They were 'aving this… this meeting," Dung stuttered. "They were planning to begin a group, against Umbridge. To learn Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"_What_?" Remus said, feeling a strange mix of delight and disapproval.

"Whose idea was that?" Sirius wanted to know.

"'ermione's."

_Obviously_, Remus thought. _I bet she wasn't very taken with Umbridge to begin with, and her refusing to let them do anything was probably the final straw._

"And Ron and Ginny went along with it?" Molly said incredulously.

"And Fred and George too," Dung added helpfully.

"How was Harry under all this?" asked Sirius.

"'e… 'e said that it would 'elp against You-Know-'oo, and 'e's going to teach 'em all how to fight 'im – "

"Harry?" Remus repeated. Sirius had a very smug expression on his face and looked about to say "that's my boy!" but Remus told him to "shut up, Padfoot!"

"_What_?" Sirius said. "Why? If _anybody_ knows how to fight Dark Arts, it's Harry! Besides, who taught him to conjured a Patronus?"

"That's besides the point," Remus said, a bit peeved. Secretly, he did have the same feeling Sirius had, but on a rational level he knew how dangerously this idea could work out.

"I don't see how it is," Sirius objected.

"Do you have any idea what will happen if this group is really going out there and fight Death Eaters? They'll be killed one by one! That will make Harry popular with Fudge!"

"Who cares about bloody Fudge?" Sirius scowled.

"The rest of the world, who has no idea that Fudge's version of events isn't the right one? Who think that Harry's a lying lunatic? And there's Umbridge too, as much as I hate to say it. With her being High Inquisitor, if she finds out Harry – and the others too – have begun what could very well be seen as a rebellion, they will be kicked out of Hogwarts before you can say Voldemort," Remus said sharply. "And what should they do then? Don't say you'll let them live here. Their futures will be ruined, they education gone – should they risk that?"

"I quite agree with you," Molly interrupted. "It's ridiculous." She took Remus by surprise. He hadn't really been arguing Sirius, more showing the other side of things. The idea in itself was good, but he had the feeling Sirius wasn't really seeing the dangers of it. He had been merely pointing them out, but Molly thought he was on her side while in fact he wasn't. Not completely, anyway.

"Alright!" Sirius said loudly. "Alright! Fine! Have it your way!"

"Sirius – " Remus tried, but Sirius glared at him.

"Just shut up, Moony."

"You aren't really going to tell them off for this, are you?" Bill asked his mother.

"Of course I am! It's like Remus said! It can seriously damage their future careers. We're in a time when it's not wise to draw unwanted attention."

"I think it's very wise to do so if that attention comes from people like Umbridge," Sirius muttered.

"I'm going to write them a letter right now," Molly continued, making a point of ignoring Sirius. She got to her feet, but before she could get parchment and a quill, her husband stopped her.

"It's not a good idea to send a letter," Arthur said. "Who knows who might intercept it?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" she asked hotly. "Go to Hogwarts in person?"

"I'll talk to them," Sirius said, annoyed.

"How?" she bit.

"Through the fire in the Gryffindor common room. I've done it before."

"When?" Remus asked, sharper than he had intended. Sirius shot him an angry look.

"The last time was a couple of weeks ago. I forgot to tell you because the day after, the _Daily Prophet_ published that article about Umbridge being High Inquisitor, and we all had something else on our minds."

"Fine. Good." Remus could tell Molly was really angry about her children forming a sort of resistance group, because for once she didn't berate Sirius about taking risks. "And tell them, especially Ron, as a Prefect, that they're not to take part in an illegal, secret group, on no account whatsoever. They'll be expelled, and their future will be ruined. There'll be enough time to learn things like this later – oh, never mind, I'll just go stick my head in the fire and tell them myself." As she was talking, she was working herself up more and more, and by now her eyes were blazing.

"What, tonight?" Sirius said. "You have guard duty tonight." He knew everybody's schedule by heart, so that he knew when to expect company – or to know when he would be left to his own devices.

Molly shot him an extremely annoyed glare. "Fine." She scowled. "Fine. You go talk to them. Make sure you tell them what I just said!"

"Of course," Sirius said coolly. "Trust me." She gave him a long as if she wasn't sure she could, but she said nothing.

Sirius stood up. "Now, I'll go send them a letter, so that they'll be there in time." He looked at Remus one more time, daring him to say anything, but when his friend remained silent he turned on his heels and left the kitchen.

"That was… interesting news," Tonks tried.

Remus abruptly got up as well and followed Sirius, leaving the others to discuss the matter, and to try and calm Molly down.

* * *

"Sirius!" 

Sirius, half a staircase above him, ignored him. Remus ran up the stairs, two steps at a time. As he had expected, Sirius was going to his own room. Hedwig, Harry's owl, was there – Sirius had been working on a long letter, but as everything had to be coded, it had taken him quite a while. Sirius walked into his room and shut the door as if Remus wasn't there.

Remus walked up the last few stairs and knocked on the door. "Sirius?"

A stony silence.

He tried again. "Padfoot? Please?"

The old nickname worked better than the name given by the hated parents. Remus heard footsteps coming towards the door, then Sirius yanked the door open.

"What?" he sneered. "Going to tell me again what a bad idea it is?"

"Actually, I don't think it's a bad idea, I think it's a great idea," Remus said coolly.

"Sure," Sirius snorted, hiding his surprise. "I didn't hear you say that downstairs, to Molly."

"Of course not, she'd have torn my head off."

Sirius crossed his arms, glaring. "And why do you think it's a great idea?"

"Because they need to learn to defend themselves," Remus said. "Especially if Umbridge isn't going to do it. And who's better to teach them than Harry?"

"Besides you, you mean." Sirius allowed himself a small smile. He was glad to see that Remus was on his side after all.

"Of course, but I didn't want to come across as too vain," Remus joked.

"You were going on and on about what a dangerous idea it was, though," Sirius commented.

"I'm always doing that, it's an annoying habit of mine. If someone comes up with a good idea, I'm always the one pointing out the downside of things. And vice versa – if someone says something is stupid, I can't help but point out the good things. I need therapy for it."

"That much is obvious," Sirius grinned. He walked back into the room and stretched out his arm. Hedwig took off from the backrest of the sofa and landed on Sirius' arm.

"That's Harry's owl?" Remus asked.

"Yeah. Fine animal, isn't it?"

"Hmm."

Remus watched as Sirius took a sheet of parchment and wrote down a very short message on it. He rolled it up and sealed it, Hedwig perched on his shoulder, her wings spread to keep her balance. It was an interesting sight, the black-haired and –clad man with the snowy owl on his shoulder. Sirius let her walk onto his arm again, then he tied the small scroll to her paw.

"Now," he said. "I'm sure you know where this is supposed to be delivered. It's for Harry, obviously. Remus'll take you outside." He put his words into action immediately and handed the bird to Remus.

The owl was heavier than Remus had expected. She spread her wings again as she stepped from Sirius' arm onto Remus'. Her wingspan was so impressive she nearly knocked the two men against the head. She hooted softly as she neatly folded her wings.

"I'll take her outside right away," Remus promised.

"Right. Thanks. You're leaving after that?"

"Yes, sorry."

"Hm, don't worry. I know you have to." Sirius felt he wanted to be angry with somebody over it, but he didn't know who. "Anything I can tell the trio for you?"

"Nothing I can think of at this moment."

"Okay. I'll see you later."

"Yes, see you later."

* * *

It was past midnight when Sirius sat down next to the fire, the pot with Floo powder in his hand. He went over everything he had been instructed to say once more, then he took a handful of powder and threw it in the fire. 

"Gryffindor common room!"

Thankfully, the common room was empty, save for the three persons Sirius was supposed to see. The three were sitting in armchairs. Harry was just putting away his books, probably after finishing his homework. Hermione was, as expected, bend over a book. Ron seemed to be sleeping, but suddenly grunted and opened his eyes, looking straight at the fire.

"Sirius!" he said.

Harry turned around abruptly and smiled when he saw his Godfather.

"Hi," Sirius said, grinning.

"Hi," the trio repeated as they sat down by the fire. Crookshanks, Hermione's cat, attempted to nudge Sirius' nose with his own, but Hermione pulled him back. Despite Sirius' head being in it, the fire was still very real.

"How're things?" Sirius asked.

"Not that good," said Harry. Indeed, he didn't look too happy. "The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams –"

"Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?" said Sirius, just keeping himself from winking. He grinned when he saw their stunned looks.

"How did you know about that?" Harry demanded to know.

"You want to choose your meeting places more carefully," said Sirius lightly, now definitely grinning. "The Hog's Head, I ask you."

"Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!" Hermione argued. "That's always packed with people –"

"Which means you'd have been harder to overhear," said Sirius interrupted. "You've got a lot to learn, Hermione." It was no coincidence that the Marauders had always made the bulk of their plans in the Three Broomsticks.

"Who overheard us?" Harry asked, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Mundungus, of course," said Sirius. They looked even more taken aback, and he laughed. "He was the witch under the veil."

"That was Mundungus?" Harry asked. He sounded as though he couldn't really believe it. "What was he doing in the Hog's Head?"

"What do you think he was doing?" said Sirius. "Keeping an eye on you, of course."

"I'm still being followed?" asked Harry incredulously.

"Yeah, you are," said Sirius, "and just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organise an illegal defence group." He smiled at his Godson to show that he wasn't really angry, but, in fact, enormously proud.

"Why was Dung hiding from us?" asked Ron, sounding disappointed. 'We'd've liked to've seen him.'

"He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago," explained Sirius, "and that barman's got a long memory." He would have, being a Dumbledore. Sirius often suspected that Albus Dumbledore had a photographic memory, and he wouldn't be surprised to find that Aberforth had one as well. "We lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, so Dung's been dressing as a witch a lot lately... Anyway..." he continued dismissively. "First of all, Ron – I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother."

"Oh yeah?" It didn't seem that Ron was happy with it.

"She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group." Sirius said it a bit dully. He was just passing on information, but he wasn't agreeing with it. "She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also –" and he looked at the other two crouched by the fire, watching him a bit apprehensively, "– advises Harry and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because she's on duty tonight."

"On duty doing what?" asked Ron quickly, ignoring the rest of the message.

"Never you mind, just stuff for the Order," said Sirius. "So it's fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don't think she trusts me to."

A silence followed. Ron fidgeted with a hole in the hearthrug. The other two were watching him – the message Sirius had passed on had mainly concerned him.

"So, you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the Defence group?" Ron muttered eventually.

"Me? Certainly not!" Sirius said immediately. "I think it's an excellent idea!"

This took all three by surprise.

"You do?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"Of course I do!" said Sirius. "D'you think your father and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?" They had barely accepted them from McGonagall…

"But – last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks –" Harry objected.

"Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!" said Sirius impatiently. _Sometimes, Harry can be a bit… thick._ "This year, we know there's someone outside Hogwarts who'd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!"

"And if we do get expelled?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!" Harry objected. He looked at her as if he couldn't quite believe what she'd just said.

"I know it was. I just wondered what Sirius thought," she shrugged.

"Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue," said Sirius reasonably.

"Hear, hear," said Harry and Ron together. Their moody and sleepy expressions had disappeared; they looked decidedly awake and enthusiastic now.

"So," said Sirius, ready to be practical now the messaging was over, "how are you organising this group? Where are you meeting?"

"Well, that's a bit of a problem now," said Harry, almost naturally taking the role as the leader. "Dunno where we're going to be able to go."

"How about the Shrieking Shack?" suggested Sirius.

"Hey, that's an idea!" Ron seemed all for it, but Hermione tutted. The sceptical sound made all three look at her.

"Well, Sirius, it's just that there were only four of you meeting in the Shrieking Shack when you were at school," she said reasonably, "and all of you could transform into animals and I suppose you could all have squeezed under a single Invisibility Cloak if you'd wanted to. But there are twenty-eight of us and none of us is an Animagus, so we wouldn't need so much an Invisibility Cloak as an Invisibility Marquee –"

"Fair point," said Sirius, looking slightly crestfallen. It felt as if Remus was here, pointing out holes in his plans. "Well, I'm sure you'll come up with somewhere. There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practise jinxes in there."

"Fred and George told me it's blocked," said Harry, crushing Sirius' idea. "Caved in or something."

"Oh..." Sirius said, disappointed. "Well, I'll have a think and get back to –" He broke off mid-sentence. He had heard something, and not from behind him. It came from another fireplace, and in his direction. It took him only a moment to realise what had happened.

_They know I'm here. _

He didn't stay to find out just who had found him out. He abruptly pulled his head back, and only just in time. The cool air of the kitchen hit his head, as though somebody had thrown a bucket of cold water over his face, as he staggered backwards on his knees with the force of his pull backwards. Wide-eyed, shocked, he watched as he saw a stubby, heavily-ringed hand grope around in the fire, trying to find him.

Somehow, Umbridge had found out about him.

**

* * *

**

Author's Note  
Okay, it's official. I can't write Dung. His accent is **impossible**. Even Hagrid's easier, because Hagrid has a lot of dialogue in the books, so you can just steal phrases from there. Dung speaks, what, twenty sentences together?  
Also, I had some trouble deciding what Molly calls Remus! 'Professor Lupin' is too cool, but 'Remus' seemed too... familiar. I finally settled on 'Remus', but I'm still not sure whether I like it. :P  
Not sure whether 'The Summer of the Puffskeins' can be considered canon, btw. It does say in _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them_ that Ron used to have a Puffskein and that Fred used it for Beater-practice, but it didn't say that they used to have sixty... Oh well. I decided to take a bit of liberty with the canon, since it seemed funny to me!  
Hope you all liked the chapter too. Please leave a review!


	12. Halloween

FINALLY. If there ever was a chapter I hated writing, it's probably this one. Complete writer's block due to stress, I got ill last weekend (feeling better now, though), and I just didn't like writing about what I was suppose to write about, if you catch my drift. At one point, though, I thought - like Samwise in Return of the King "Then let us be rid of it" and threw my laptop into Mount Doom.  
Of course, 't was only then that I realised that that wasn't perhaps the greatest of ideas...

On a less serious note, here's the newest chapter. Slightly lousy, imo, shorter than usual, but it'll have to do. Enjoy.  
Oh, and sorry 'bout the language.

**

* * *

October 1995.  
**_"Well, I can think of one thing that might cheer you both up."__  
__"Oh, yeah?" __  
__"Yeah. Hagrid's back."_

* * *

"They're mad. They're absolutely insane!" 

"I think it's a brilliant idea, actually," Sirius said coolly.

"Of course you do," Remus muttered. He rubbed his forehead, leaning with his elbows on the carved marble of the hearth in Mr Black's study. Sirius had just told him everything about his conversation with Harry through the fire – everything except that Umbridge had nearly caught him. He had decided to conveniently 'forget' to mention that part. He had the feeling that Remus wasn't going to welcome that news.

"Did you tell Molly?" Remus asked.

"Of course not, she'd go berserk."

"I can imagine," Remus said to the hearth.

"I don't believe this," Sirius spat. "A few days ago, you were all for it, and now you've suddenly turned into a sour prick who can't take a bit of fun."

"I am _not_ a sour prick."

"Proof me wrong."

"Listen," Remus began very reasonably, in his opinion at least, "there is a difference between a bit of fun and something that can possibly harm them. What we used to do was fun. We only got ourselves in trouble, and the only ones who we could get in trouble with were McGonagall and maybe Dumbledore too if we went too far. But they have a group of twenty-five or so, all children, and they're up against Umbridge. Against Fudge. It's just… an enormous risk."

"You're chickening out," Sirius said disgustedly. "I can't believe it. I thought you were braver than this."

"I'm _not_ chickening out, and it's got nothing to do with bravery. It's about being aware of the risk, and not getting yourself caught. If the Ministry finds out about this, they'll have to face more than detention, you know."

"I _know_, Moony."

"I know you know, but I'm not sure you really realise what they can get themselves into."

Sirius shot him an annoyed glare. "What do you mean?"

"You're… you're being too enthusiastic about this," Remus said, carefully wording his opinion lest he anger Sirius any more. "The way you put it, this is the most brilliant idea since Dumbledore founded the Order of the Phoenix. You don't seem to be aware of the dangers."

"Unlike Mr 'always look on the downside' Lupin?" Sirius inquired sarcastically.

"The realistic side," Remus corrected. He was starting to feel slightly annoyed now.

"Are you saying I'm not being realistic?" Sirius bit.

"Yes, I am."

" it, Remus, stop treating me like a child!"

"Stop acting like one," Remus said sharply. "You're not sixteen anymore, Sirius! For God's sake, it wouldn't hurt acting responsibly!"

"Responsibly?" Sirius repeated. He slammed his father's desk; Remus had succeeded in making his friend angry. "How can I be bloody _responsible_ when I'm stuck in here?"

"I'm not going to discuss that," Remus warned.

"Of course not," Sirius snarled. "God forbid that you'd do anything against Dumbledore's orders."

"I said I didn't want to discuss that," Remus replied. "We were talking about Harry, not about Dumbledore. Just stop applauding everything Harry does, okay? I know it's Harry, but not everything he does is the Second Coming of Christ, and he does some exceedingly stupid things, and he needs people to pull him back. Responsible, adult persons."

"You've made your point by now, you know," said Sirius coolly. "Next time, I'll be a boring, careful, responsible grownup person. Just like you."

Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius already slammed the door behind him.

* * *

It wasn't until nearly a week later that Remus saw Sirius again. He had only come to Grimmauld Place to sleep, and during those hours Sirius avoided him. The rest of the time, he was busy with his work for the Order of the Phoenix. 

He rarely visited Kingsley now, so as not to make Scrimgeour any more suspicious than he was already. Instead, he hung around in the corridors, did his Guard Duty in the Department of Mysteries, paid Arthur the odd visit – and even found himself visiting the Werewolf Capture Unit.

It surprised him too. He hadn't thought he'd ever end up there – like going to the police for a nice cup of tea when you're a criminal – but there he was. He had been invited by an elderly lady, and he had found himself unable to refuse.

"I understand that you might feel a little uncomfortable," she had accurately assessed his feelings, "but do come. Your brother's having a bit of a rough time, and it might help if you come and visit us."

"Why?"

Romulus had apparently had a rougher 'first moon' than the others. Apart from having had to fight a werewolf and seeing two children having been brutally murdered, which was of course never easy, he had a feeling of guilt he didn't want to admit. He had only now realised that his idea hadn't been the best, and Remus being angry with him over it hadn't exactly helped either.

"He's a dear," the woman, Emily, had said, "but it would help if you'd show him that you don't completely hate him."

Remus hadn't realised that his brother felt so bad about the whole thing. In fact, he hadn't thought twice about what kind of an effect it would have on Romulus – to Remus, it was just another really stupid, almost Sirius-esque action.

But he had promised to come and visit the Capture Unit again. _If anything, it'll be interesting, and I doubt they'll clap me in irons just for being me_, he thought hopefully.

* * *

Sirius used to hate Halloween. There was just no fun in the holiday when he was little. There was no way that he and Regulus would dress up – his parents were too busy giving parties for their friends. The house-elves sometimes tried to make something of it, but two little carved pumpkins, candy and telling ghost-stories to your little brother were poor substitutes of what the day was really about. But he had only realised what he had missed when he had gone to Hogwarts – yes, there were pumpkins, and candy, and ghost-stories, but they seemed to be multiplied by twelve. There were huge pumpkins, and mountains of candy, and real ghosts, and James to enact stories with, to frighten other students out of their wits. Within no-time, Halloween had become Sirius' favourite holiday. 

Then, of course, came 1981, and it took the fun out of the day forever.

"I don't suppose we're actually going to do something with it this year," Sirius told Buckbeak, as he was brushing the animal's fur. "I mean, there's hardly anybody around to celebrate it with anyway, and I wouldn't know what I'd do. I propose that we're just going to live the 30th of October twice, and then go on with the first of November. What do you say?"

Buckbeak made a sound, a sort of grunt. Sirius knew that it meant that the Hippogriff liked being brushed, but he decided that Buckbeak had just agreed with his plan.

"Good, it's a plan then. Tomorrow will be the 30th, and the day after that too, and then it's November, and nothing happened." He patted Buckbeak on his flank. The animal let out a shriek and playfully tried to peck Sirius. Sirius laughed, stepped out of the way, then patted Buckbeak again. The Hippogriff snorted at Sirius.

"No matter how often you try," Sirius boasted, "you won't catch me." He smiled and stroked Buckbeak's feathers. "But I'll give you a treat for trying. Wait here."

He walked out of the room and quickly descended the stairs, to the kitchen. He had hoped to find an easier way to get six floors down – perhaps a closet on the top floor that you could walk into, close the door, and when you opened again you were in the kitchen. But his extensive searches had given him no luck so far. Not even one of those iron poles firemen used, cleverly hidden somewhere.

He stopped abruptly when he reached the last staircase, the one leading to the hall. Kreacher was standing in front of his former Mistress' portrait, talking to it even though he couldn't see it, as the curtains were drawn shut.

"Yes, it's a disgrace," he growled with his – still unnervingly – deep voice. "Mudbloods, traitors, half-breeds – staying here in the house. Kreacher has to serve them too, if Master orders, but Kreacher tries not to. He is remembering his Mistress' orders never to serve scum like that. Kreacher minds the family's honour, even if Master Sirius does not. Yes, the Mistress can be proud… Kreacher does as he is told…"

"I'm glad to hear that," Sirius interrupted the house-elf's monologue. "Right now, I'm telling you to stop talking to that portrait, get your scrawny out of my sight and go do something useful." He descended the stairs, looking at Kreacher with contempt.

"Master." Kreacher bowed deep down, pretending he hadn't just insulted Sirius. "Of course. Kreacher does his Master's bidding."

"Well, do it _faster_," Sirius snapped. "Out of my sight. Go clean the sitting room." He prodded Kreacher with his boot towards the staircase, rougher than was necessary.

"Yes, Master," Kreacher muttered, adding; "Kreacher has to clean that room again, and he does not wonder, since the presence of the Master's friends, the werewolf and the bloodtraitors, besmirch it. Oh, what would the Mistress say?"

Sirius felt a sudden, almost uncontrollable urge to kick Kreacher to the other end of the hall, pick him up and do it again, but the elf had already crept up the staircase, out of reach.

"God, I hate that creature," he muttered. Severely pissed off, he walked on towards the kitchen. He yanked the door open, stomped down the stairs – and stopped in surprise.

Albus Dumbledore was quietly enjoying a cup of tea at the kitchen table.

"Excuse me?" was the first thing that came out of Sirius' mouth, before he had really realised he was going to say that.

The Headmaster looked up and smiled. "Ah, Sirius. I was already wondering what kept you. Kreacher told me he was going to fetch you about twenty minutes ago."

"I spent the last half hour with Buckbeak," Sirius said dryly. "Obviously, Kreacher didn't think it necessary to inform me of your arrival."

"Apparently." Dumbledore pointed at the teacup in his hand. "I felt so free to make myself a cup of tea."

"Of course, of course, by all means feel free to." Sirius picked up the teapot, which was still warm, and poured himself a cup of tea as well.

"I hope everything is all right with Buckbeak," Dumbledore said conversationally.

"He's fine, he's fine. He misses regular exercise though." _He isn't the only one_," Sirius added mentally. "But never mind that," he continued briskly. He didn't want to discuss locked-up animals – or people – with Dumbledore; he had a feeling that the subject would only earn him another lecture about safety. "What brings you here?"

"I wanted to pass on some news.

"Surely that's not your only reason you're here," Sirius said, laughing a little. "Albus Dumbledore the owl?"

Dumbledore chuckled at that. "No, indeed. I had some other business to attend to here in London, and decided to stop by for a minute, to save paper and an owl. I have news from Hagrid."

"Ah. And?"

Dumbledore blinked, slightly surprised by Sirius' matter-of-fact tone, but quickly recovered. "Hagrid's coming back to England," he said. "He's written me that he's on his way home. The only problem is now finding a way to cross the Channel."

"Finally. What took him so long?"

"Family matters, I'm afraid."

Sirius gaped at this. "Family matters?" he repeated. "Begging your pardon, but does Hagrid actually still _have_ a family?"

"Apparently he has." Dumbledore looked a bit disapproving, Sirius noticed, although his tone of voice didn't sound like it. "A half-brother."

"Okay…" Sirius scratched his neck, slightly confused. "Well, good for him I suppose. D'you want me to pass the news on?"

"If you'd please."

"Sure, no problem."

Dumbledore nodded. "Good. I'll leave that to your care then. I must be off to Hogwarts again." He got to his feet and put his cloak on, which had been hanging over the back of his chair.

Sirius wished he could ask Dumbledore to say hi to Harry from him, but he knew that that was impossible – Dumbledore had said that he suspected that Voldemort was somehow trying to control Harry, and he wanted to avoid direct contact with the boy as much as possible. So instead of giving lengthy instructions as to what exactly tell Harry, Sirius was forced to remain silent.

He saw the Headmaster off to the door. Just before Dumbledore left, Sirius blurted out: "Happy Halloween." He wasn't quite sure why he said it – perhaps some unconscious desire to see if somebody remembered it.

Dumbledore turned, slightly surprised. "Yes… happy Halloween." His mind had been on more important things. He nodded his goodbye, smiling, and stepped out onto the street.

Sirius held in his sigh until he had closed the door behind the elder wizard. Then he leaned with his head against the door and screwed up his face in utter despair. He had never felt so lonely in his entire life. For a moment, the dark house behind and above him seemed a giant black hole, about to suck him in. There was no escaping it.

Somebody had had the ungodly idea to actually put a carved pumpkin, complete with a little light, in the kitchen, on the morning of the second 30th of October. Sirius scowled at it when he saw it on the table, it's light nearly burned down. Whoever had put it there had done it a couple of hours ago, early this morning.

"I bet it was Molly," Sirius said darkly. "If it was Remus I'm going to kick him."

He was not at all in the mood for festivities. Holidays required people around you, and a cheerful mood, and Sirius had neither. He had seen the others briefly on the evening of the 29th, but had been left alone after that. He hadn't really expected anyone to drop by, for that matter, and neither did he really expect anybody around tonight. It was a holiday after all – who would spend Halloween in a dreary Head Quarters? Most of the Order had a home to go to, even the Weasleys had excused themselves. Tonks had excused herself with much apologising; she'd promised her parents to come over this evening, and she hadn't had the heart to refuse. It would've been rather hard to explain anyway. So Sirius' hope was set on Remus, who had promised to stay at Grimmauld Place tonight. He wondered for a moment whether Remus was going to come up with a silly present again, like he had last year. Sirius felt like he could do with a present, silly or not.

He spent the day rummaging about the house, all by himself, as expected. He avoided Kreacher, and the house-elf avoided him as well. Neither of them wanted to be around one another if they could help it.

He grew more restless, a sort of expectant nervosity, as the evening grew nearer. He found himself almost counting the hours, in fact. As happened more often lately, the house seemed to grow darker and bigger, quieter too. With the few lights he had put up in the kitchen, it almost seemed as if he was entombed, or in a tiny cave in a huge mountain, with nobody around for miles. A surreal thought for somebody in a house in London. Yet, he couldn't really seem to grasp that there were millions of people around him, some of them only yards away. He felt as if he was the only person in the world.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly. The carved pumpkin cast strange shadows around the room – Sirius had put in a new light. He swirled his drink around in his glass, watching the shadows, waiting.

Surely Remus would come?

It was nearly eleven o'clock when Kreacher shuffled into the kitchen, carrying a sealed piece of parchment. "A letter has arrived, Master," he croaked.

"Sod off, I'm busy," Sirius growled. He wasn't, unless thinking dark and depressing thoughts about being left alone by friends could be considered 'busy'. He snatched the parchment from Kreacher's hand and tore the seal open, paying no more attention to the house-elf. He narrowed his eyes when he recognised Remus' handwriting.

_Padfoot,_

_I am more sorry than I can possibly express, but I'm afraid I won't be able to make it tonight. Something needed my immediate attention, something that cannot be explained right away. Please understand that this wasn't my own choice – if it were up to me, I'd be with you right now, and we'd be drinking Firewhiskey until we both throw up, or until Molly scolds at us and tells us to cut it out. But I can't._

_I swear by everything that is dear to me that I'll come 'round tomorrow and explain everything that needs explaining. Don't throw away that Firewhiskey just yet._

_Moony._

Sirius suddenly realised what people meant with 'a sinking feeling in your stomach'. It really felt that way – as if his stomach had suddenly sunk right out of his body.

Remus wasn't coming.

"Something needed my immediate attention," he repeated from the letter. "What in God's _fucking_ hell can be more important!" He tore the letter in half, and then tore those pieces too for good measure. He threw them into the fire, disgusted.

Goddamnit Moony, I was counting on you," he muttered, looking at the pieces of the letter being turned into ashes. The feeling of loneliness returned tenfold.

He looked up. To his relief, Kreacher hadn't stayed around to hear what was in the letter. He feared that if he had, he might've killed the house-elf, simply for being the only one to vent his anger and frustration on.

He looked around the room, and his eye fell on the bottle of Firewhiskey he'd set ready.

"Well," he muttered. "If I can't enjoy it with Moony – " he said his friend's nickname very sarcastically, "– I'll have to enjoy it by myself." And with that, he poured himself the first of what were going to be many glasses.

**

* * *

**

**Bleh  
**I managed to write a chapter about Hagrid returning without ever mentioning what he did! I must be a genius. Or just not interested in Hagrid - if you want to know exactly what he did, go and reread the chapter called "Hagrid's Tale" in OotP. You may think that Sirius reacted rather coolly to the news that Hagrid has a halfbrother - that was mainly because he doesn't really care as much about Hagrid as Harry does. Besides, the last time Hagrid and Sirius had a proper conversation was... some time ago.I must admit that I quite like writing Sirius' dialogue, especially when he's angry. grin The only problem is that I find his vocabulary somewhat repetitive, sometimes. I do hope that you're not all hating Remus now, btw, just as much as I hope that the next chapter's going to work out...Review! Please?


	13. Telling the truth

**November 1995.**

"_The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution." _

* * *

The reunion of the Lupin brothers was so uneventful that it was almost an anticlimax. Remus simply walked into the office of the Capture Unit one day, sat down next to his brother, accepted a cup of tea and smiled.

And that was that.

It was Halloween when they made up, and perhaps that was fitting, since Halloween was nothing short of a family holiday in the British wizarding world. Not that Remus had actually planned on going to his family tonight - not his blood relatives, at least. He had promised to go to Grimmauld Place and spend the night with Sirius. It wasn't that much of a disappointment with his family; he hadn't spend last Halloween with them either. But, he had thought, he might as well spend a few hours wit his brother, before going 'home'.

Whoever had decorated the Ministry had put some work in it. The atrium was almost blindingly orange, and the golden statues in the fountain were suddenly and rather idiotically holding pumpkins - the goblin and house-elf looked now even more stupid. Flocks of bats flew around under the blue ceiling, narrowly missing the people walking around. The Office for the Control of Magical Animals had decorated around a theme - magical animals. There were masks and lampoons shaped like fierce beasts put up, and Remus even saw a huge paper dragon dangling from the ceiling with two lights for eyes. The bats were even more annoying here since most of the people had placed bowls of mugs with food on their desks. So many had done it that the bats were now expecting food from everybody, and they swarmed around every person who got out of the elevator. The downside of a Department full of animal-lovers.

Thankfully, the Head Quarters of the Werewolf Capture Unit wasn't as wildly decorated. There were only two pumpkins on the table, some paper chains shaped like witches on broomsticks, and a poster with somebody in a werewolf-costume, that said "did you scare your boss today?" (nobody had, yet).

Romulus was just getting his brother, Christoph and himself another helping of cauldron cakes, when Nicholas came in, looking utterly chagrined. He flung himself on a chair and glared at the other people in the room.

"What's the matter?" asked Christoph calmly.

"I hate her," Nicholas announced dramatically.

"Who?" Remus asked.

"Oh, hi," Nicholas acknowledged Remus' existence, then ignored him again. "I don't know why we even bother going there anymore. All she does is scold us. I go out of my way to visit her, on Halloween no less, and this is the gratitude I get?"

"What was it this time?" Christoph inquired.

"Oh, the usual." Nicholas aggressively bit a cauldron cake in half. "She was moaning about how she'd miss half her leg, and how people would hate her - ha, as if they don't already - and just bitching about life and everything."

"Forty-two," Remus muttered distractedly. Then he flinched. "I really am a geek. I've been trying to hide it for a long time, but now I've gone and confirmed it."

"The worrying part is that I know exactly what you're talking about," said Romulus.

"I don't," Nicholas said. "Should I?"

"Probably not," came Remus. "But could somebody fill me in about what _you_ are talking?"

"I'll let you guys do the honours," Nicholas said. "I'm fed up with the whole matter." He took another cauldron cake.

"Well, it's this," Christoph began. "Last full moon there was a woman who survived a werewolf attack. A Muggle woman. We were in time to save her life, but, unfortunately, the Healers had to take off half her leg, since it couldn't be healed, not even with magic. It meant that we had a double problem - first of all, there suddenly was this whole world that she didn't know about and that needed to be explained. Magic was suddenly real. And besides that, who was going to believe how she _really _lost her leg? And that she was now a werewolf herself?"

"That was what she was harping on about," Nicholas interrupted. "She still flat-out refuses to believe she is one. Guess she needs to be shown the hard way."

Remus looked at him with a slightly disgusted frown on his face. "I didn't know you concerned yourself with… aftercare," he said.

"We don't, usually," Christoph explained. "We leave it to the Werewolf Support Service, most of the time. But dealing with Muggles usually involves a lot of explaining, and since we were the ones who 'brought her in' so to speak, and who saved her from the wolf who bit her and everything, they figured that we might be able to help. So far, though, it's been hard."

"More like nearly impossible," came Nicholas sarcastically. "Emily told her the other day that werewolves aren't the most popular lot in our world. Boy, did that message go down well." He looked at Remus. "Honestly, I feel sorry for you, for being of the same kind. In fact - " he added darkly, "- I feel sorry for myself too, for the same reason."

"Oh, I didn't know you were a werewolf too," Remus said with a small, playful smile.

"No, but - oh, you know what I mean. That she's human. Although I sometimes doubt it."

"Now, Nicholas," Christoph said sternly. "No need to get rude now. It's understandable that she's in denial. She simply has it worse than others, but that's no reason to call her inhuman."

Nicholas huffed but said nothing to this. There was silence for a few minutes. Romulus crumbled a cauldron cake, then brushed the crumbs on a heap and began eating them. Remus looked at his brother oddly, but Romulus just shrugged. Christoph looked at the two brothers with a small smile on his face. None of them noticed that Nicholas had spend the last two minutes looking pensively at Remus until he broke the silence.

"I just had an idea," he announced.

Remus looked up, and his interested expression changed into an alarmed one when he saw the look in Nicholas' eyes. It was an almost Sirius-like look, and years of experience told him right away that this idea was very likely to involve him - and he probably wasn't going to like it.

* * *

"Why," said Remus, following his brother through the corridors of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, "and how do I always end up in situations like these?"

"I have no idea," Romulus said.

"Is it karma?" Remus continued. "Did I do something wrong in an earlier life? Did I forget to sacrifice the proper number of goats? Does somebody up there - " he looked scornfully at the ceiling, "- really hate me?"

"It's probably simply because Life can't help but annoy you, just for fun."

Remus had to agree - the current situation _was_ annoying. For some reason or other, in a sudden burst of inspiration that was indeed quite Sirius-like, Nicholas had got the idea of dragging Remus to St Mungo's, to show Margaret Wilson that werewolves were as much a figment of the imagination as her chewed-off leg was. He hadn't put it in those exact words, thankfully.

"Just so you know, I have an appointment tonight," Remus said. "I'd promised somebody to come over to his house, for Halloween." He had send Sirius a letter, just to prepare his friend for any disappointment, but he had planned on trying to go to Grimmauld Place nonetheless.

"Trust me, I wasn't planning on staying here this evening either." Romulus stopped and turned around. "Who're you meeting tonight?"

"I can't remember that being any of your business," Remus said evasively.

"Tied down a girl, have you?" Romulus said, with a most annoying look of amusement in his eyes. He looked rather smug, actually, and superior-feeling, and Remus was suddenly very aware that his younger brother already had a wife and children, and he was still a sad old bachelor, which was not the proper order of things, and it annoyed him to no end.

"I haven't _tied down_ anyone," he said irritable. "And what a horrible expression anyway - it makes me think of cattle."

"Sorry, sorry, I was just asking." Romulus walked on again, but Remus was sure that he had seen an irritating small smile on his brother's face.

"And don't you dare get any funny thoughts," he threatened.

"The thought of thinking anything that's even remotely funny hasn't even begun to contemplate crossing my mind," Romulus replied. He was having difficulty keeping the laughter from his voice.

"Oh yes it has," Remus said darkly. "If Mum sends me an invitation for Christmas dinner, including a _girlfriend_, I know who to hit. Just so you know."

"'t would be a pity of the Christmas spirit, though," Romulus mused.

"Exactly."

They walked on. To Remus' surprise, Romulus didn't lead him to one of the larger wards. Instead, they walked towards one of the single-person bedrooms.

"Why's she not in one of the wards?" he asked.

"It was thought better," Romulus said, "makes it a little easier to adjust, and to grasp this new world, if it comes in at small bits at the time, instead of in a large ward with lots of people being injured by creatures that didn't used to exist." He stopped in front of the door. "Shall I go in with you?"

"Of course," Remus said. "You ought to introduce me." He opened the door.

The room, he noticed, was very similar to the one Wulf had had, last year. It had the same type of bed, a table and chair in a corner and a bedside table with flowers and a few books on it. Unlike last year, however, there was no sunlight streaming in through the windows - it was evening, the curtains had been drawn shut, and the room was only dimly lit by a small lamp above the bed. Although the rest of the hospital was wildly decorated, there was not a sign of Halloween here - it could have been any day of the year.

The woman in the bed looked up when they walked in. She was, Remus guessed, about ten years older than he was. Her blond hair was neatly styled in that typical style that middle-aged women liked; a bit like a man's haircut, only longer. She was wearing a neatly buttoned pyjama top, her hands had clean fingernails - she looked as if she had her life under complete control.

The bandages around her arms and the plasters on her face did spoil the picture a little though.

Remus saw an apprehensive look appear on the woman's face when she saw Romulus come in. Had he been somewhere else, in other company, he would've turned around and asked his brother whether this was the usual reaction to him, Romulus, walking into a room, but he restrained himself. Instead, he nodded in a sort-of-friendly way.

"Goodevening, Mrs Wilson," Romulus said. "How are you tonight?"

"Fine, thank you," she said stiffly. She looked at Remus. "Who's your friend?"

"Ah, he's not my friend. He's my brother."

Remus shook hands with her. "Remus Lupin."

"Margaret Wilson," she said. "What an interesting name you have."

"Blame our parents," he answered with a smile. "They have really ordinary names themselves, but insisted on burdening their sons with outlandish ones."

Romulus drew up chairs for him and Remus, and they sat down. Remus had a feeling that Mrs Wilson wanted to protest, but she was too polite to do so. Instead, she asked, "tell me, what brings you here?" in a somewhat stiff, haughty way.

"We decided to pay you a visit," Romulus said. "Since it's Halloween, which is a very important holiday with us."

The 'with us' seemed to hang in the air as if Romulus had said something offending. She had drawn up her eyebrows, but said nothing.

Remus quickly looked around the room for another topic of discussion. His eye fell on the books on her bedside table. Apart from a romance novel, there was a book about the magical world that was recommended to Muggle parents who found out that their child was accepted to Hogwarts (_Magic in the Muggle world_), and the essential book, the werewolf bible - _Hairy Snout, Human Heart_. Apparently, Mrs Wilson had done some reading to find out about this strange new world.

He nodded to the book he'd read so often himself. "I see you've read _Hairy Snout_," he said. "Excellent book, isn't it?"

"It's well-written," she said evasively.

"I really like how the author managed to tell his life-story, while he at the same time discusses various topics in different chapters, in an almost text-book like way. He doesn't stay personal, close to himself, but puts it in the wider scheme of things. And he has a realistic way of writing, he very accurately describes the way it feels to turn into a werewolf."

A silence followed this short speech. Romulus had a smile on his face - he had heard this before, and he was amused by the way Remus forgot all reserve simply because he was talking about a book he liked. Mrs Wilson, on the other hand, had a sort of horrified expression on her face.

"Who are you?" she said. "_What_ are you?"

"Do I really need to tell you?" Remus asked in return. Her widening eyes told him that he didn't need to. She could guess.

"That's… that's not possible," she breathed.

"I seem to be living proof that it is." Remus said this rather wryly - he had a feeling he wasn't going to like the rest of the conversation.

"It can't be. Werewolves are just figments of the imagination, fairy tales - or from horror stories." She tapped her finger on the bedsheets to emphasise her words. "They do not exist in reality! This is all some kind of elaborate, sick joke."

"What kind of a twisted sense of humour do you think we've got?" said Remus incredulously. "Why on earth would we joke about something like this?"

"Proof it," she snapped.

"Proof it?" Remus repeated. He got to his feet, he was too agitated to stay seated. "Proof what? What, do you want me to Change right here, in this very room? Is that what you want?"

Romulus had got up as well. He was now standing close to the door, keeping out of the conversation but keeping a watchful eye on his brother. He was fairly sure that Remus wasn't able to Change when it wasn't a full moon, but when there's a werewolf involved, 'fairly sure' isn't enough - it was either 'damn sure' or not at all. If Remus was going to surprise him, he was ready to run.

"What do you mean?" Mrs Wilson demanded. She'd completely forgotten that there even was somebody else in the room but herself and Remus. "Don't tell me you can actually do that."

"Make me angry enough and you'll see," Remus replied. He was bluffing, actually - he had heard of werewolves being able to do it, once sufficiently angered, but he had never done it himself, and actually wondered whether he would be able to get angry enough for it. This woman was helping him a fair end towards it, however. He felt a sudden, intense dislike for her - her neat appearance, her perfect little life that was suddenly crushed by something she absolutely refused to believe in because it did not fit into the way she saw the world. _He_ didn't fit into her world. It was infuriating.

What made it even worse was that she was rejecting herself as well. It wasn't in the way Remus used to do, what Wulf had scolded him for, that he didn't want to see and accept the darker parts of his nature. Margaret Wilson refused to even acknowledge that she was what she was. Werewolves didn't exist, therefore she couldn't be one.

"You don't look like a werewolf!" she said.

"Neither do you!" he bit back. He wanted to add "you stupid woman!" but decided against it. "We don't look like what the movies want you to believe! It's - for the average person anyway - not that easy to recognise us. We don't have bulky muscles or very pointed ears or whatever, it's just minor clues. And the scars, of course."

He was dimly aware of a click of the door in the background - Romulus had left the room.

"What sca-" she began.

Before she could finish the word, he had swung his leg on her bed and pulled up the right leg of his trousers. She gasped, completely indignant that he had dared to put his shoe on the bed - then looked in horror at the scars on his leg.

The werewolf - _Wulf_, he corrected himself - had made deep gashes in Remus' right leg from about two inches above the knee to the ankle, trying to claw itself a way to the boy's head, but being held back by repeated kicks in the head and the timely arrival of Remus' father. Pieces of flesh were missing, and as Remus had grown almost three feet, his scarred skin had stretched so that it was now rather ribbed and lumpy instead of smooth, like a normal leg. The hair that grew unevenly around the scars didn't exactly make it any prettier either.

In short, as Remus always said; there was a reason why he didn't like going to the beach.

She stared at his leg with eyes that were opened wide with horror. Her reaction was like the one you get when you see a horrible accident - disgust, horror, fear, and at the same time an inability to look away.

"And?" he said. "What do you think did this to me? A really large dog or something?"

She thought this over for a moment. "Well, yes," she said finally. "It could be."

Remus gaped at her. He couldn't believe it. Were all Muggles this thick? Was this the reason why his mother's family had no idea of what Remus really was?

He suddenly felt tired. It was no use. He swung his leg back off the bed. "Right," he said. "Obviously. My mistake. It was just a really large dog." He began walking towards the door.

Mrs Wilson gave him a puzzled look. She really didn't see it - she was forty-seven, and ever since she'd learned that there were no monsters under the bed, she had been under the impressions that werewolves and the like didn't exist either. It simply couldn't be true. She had no idea what had attacked her, but there was no way it could be a werewolf. And now this man turned up, after the throng of people who had already told her that werewolves _were_ real, and he even insisted that he was a werewolf himself.

It was either some really insane joke or everybody here was mad and having the same kind of hallucinations, and this man, Remus Lupin, had it more severely than others. She hoped it was the first option since then she could get angry at people when they revealed the truth.

"Are you leaving already?" she said.

"Yes, I think we finished our conversation." He sounded rather sour, she noticed.

He opened the door. "I'm sorry for _bothering_ you."

As he closed the door behind him, he mentally added: _enjoy the full moon._

* * *

It had rained during their visit to St Mungo's, and the streets of London were shining in the orange light of the street lights. It was silent, except for the sound the feet of the Lupin brothers made on the pavement and of Remus' voice as he was raging at his brother (simply for lack of other people to rage at).

"Don't _ever_ do that to me again," he bit. "It was horrible. That stupid, _stupid _woman. You tell somebody the truth, you do something you'd otherwise never do, and how does she react? She refuses to believe it! Eurgh, I've never seen anybody so stubborn before in my life." (This was not true, of course, but when one is angry one usually does not concern oneself with trivial things like whether the statements one makes are true or not.)

He went on in that fashion for quite some time. Romulus was the only one who heard him; despite it being Halloween, the streets were deserted. It was probably a good thing too.

"And why is it that every time I meet another werewolf I end up having a blazing row with them?" Remus continued.

"Territorial fights?" Romulus suggested timidly, trying to clear the air with a joke. He was unsuccessful; Remus shot him an angry glare.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Almost half past ten," Romulus said. They had been walking for nearly fifteen minutes now.

"Shit," Remus scolded. He wasn't sure whether he was referring to the time or to the weather; almost at that very moment, it began to rain again, and rather heavily at that. "Can't we _ever_ have _normal _weather in this god-forsaken country!" he yelled at the sky. Who-ever was up there making it rain reacted by throwing an extra bucket-full of rainwater at him. Remus cursed again.

"C'mon, overhere." Romulus beckoned his brother towards the porch under which he was taking shelter. Remus quickly joined him.

"Sirius is going to kill me," he muttered moodily, looking at the downpour.

Romulus stared. "Sirius? Sirius who?"

Remus only now realised what he had said. He stared back. _How on earth am I going to talk myself out of this? _"What?"

"You said something about a Sirius going to kill you. Sirius who?" Romulus said this rather carefully. He had a suspicious of whom Remus might meant, but he was afraid to hear it confirmed.

"Sirius Black, of course," Remus said evenly. There weren't that many Siriusses in the world, and the odds of him meeting another one were very slim. He might as well come out with the truth.

"_Sirius Black_?" Romulus half-shrieked. "The escaped prisoner?"

"I only know one Sirius Black, and yeah, that's him."

"But… I thought you hated him?"

Remus smiled wryly. "I did. Except that I met him, two years ago, and I'm now convinced that he's innocent."

"Yeah right," Romulus said, sceptical. "So who did kill all these people then?"

"Trust me, you will _not_ believe it."

"Who?"

"Peter Pettigrew."

"_Peter Pettigrew_?" Romulus repeated. "But… didn't Black kill him too?"

"No, Peter just faked that, so that people would blame Sirius for betraying the Potters. It's a long story, actually."

"Yeah, I can understand that it is…" Romulus rubbed his forehead distractedly. "So… you know where he is, right?"

"Yes."

"But you're not telling anybody. Like Kingsley Shacklebolt, who's in charge of the search for Black, and whom you seem to know very well."

"I don't need to tell him, he already knows," Remus said calmly.

It took Romulus a few moments to process this. "He already knows?"

"That's what I said."

"But… Remus, what is going on here?"

Remus hesitated. It would be so easy to spit it out right here and now, but he feared that it might all be too much for Romulus to swallow.

"It's very complicated," he said. "It's not just about Sirius, but it has to do with Harry as well - Harry Potter. And Dumbledore. And Voldemort."

Romulus winced at this name. "You don't mean to say that the stories Harry and Dumbledore told are true? I heard they're… slightly unhinged. Harry is, at least."

"No, that's what the _Daily Prophet_ would have you believe. Look, I can't tell you all right now, this is not the right time nor the right place."

"Well, when _is_?"

"Just… just give me some time. I promise I'll tell you."

Romulus studied his brother's face. Finally, when he had apparently decided that Remus was earnest, he said: "alright. But I will keep you to your promise."

* * *

Reprieve of execution. It felt that way to Remus. He was nervous about having to tell his brother about the return of Voldemort and his own involvement with the Order of the Phoenix - he knew Romulus, and he was afraid that he would try and get into the Order as well. Remus resolved to prevent this at all cost - if Romulus died, he knew it would be his fault for letting his brother join the Order in the first place. He was not going to rob his niece and nephew of their father.

As the days passed, however, his worry about his brother was pushed back by something else: Umbridge's newest stunt. She had gone and expelled Harry, Fred and George from the Gryffindor Quidditch team. This time, Remus and McGonagall weren't the only ones scolding at Umbridge. All Weasleys were voicing their _intense dislike_. Their feelings were, however, topped by what Sirius felt. _He_ spoke with an intensity and eloquence that Remus would have admired - had the content been a little less vile and hateful. He thought it better not to go and talk to Sirius about it, though. Sirius wasn't exactly happy with him either. All because of Halloween.

Remus had arrived at Grimmauld Place only very late in the night, past midnight. Romulus had asked him to come with him to the Ministry, to see if there were others from the Capture Unit they could report their visit to. But there had been no-one, everybody had gone to celebrate Halloween. Remus immediately went to Grimmauld Place, but when he arrived there, Sirius had gone to bed. The empty bottle of Firewhiskey on the kitchen table had seemed like a silent accusation to Remus: _you left me all by myself, while you knew how important this day was to me. _Sirius never mentioned it, but he never could hide his anger well. It was visible in his bodylanguage, those few times he spoke to Remus.

* * *

More than three weeks passed before Remus saw Romulus again. He got an invitation - not from Romulus, but from Ralph, Remus' one-year old nephew. It said, in Romulus' handwriting, with a definite sense of irony: _more than a week ago, I celebrated my first birthday. Sadly, you weren't there to celebrate it with me. You're still invited to come, though._ And under that: _hint hint._

Remus felt ashamed, bought something he hoped a one-year old child would like, and went to his brother's house, dreading… he wasn't quite sure, actually, but he dreaded it. The welcome he got, however, was a very warm one - not that it eased his feelings. In fact, they only increased because of the look Romulus gave him. He wasn't going to get off easily.

To his pleasant surprise, his parents were there too. He hadn't seen them in months, he had been too busy. Judging by his mother's reaction, it had been too long. Her normal worries about the most 'fragile' one of her children had been only increased by recent happenings; the article in the _Daily Prophet_, mainly, and Dolores Umbridge's new job.

Remus managed to calm her down and pry her off himself so that he could drink something and give his present. Ralph welcomed the plush elephant happily and immediately proceeded to strangle it.

"Well, at least it's appreciated," Mr Lupin smiled. "And what's the use of a stuffed animal if you can't strangle it?"

The rest of the party quite agreed with this. What followed was a long conversation about the merits of stuffed animals, which was actually quite a normal subject for the Lupin family. They had dinner, then put the children into bed. Thirza was ecstatic - instead of the usual one bedtime story, she got three, courtesy of mum and dad, grandpa and grandma. And when she snuck out of bed again to ask for a glass of water, uncle Remus went silly, picked her up, turned her upside-down and carried her off to bed again. She'd never had so much attention before in her life - that she could remember anyway. She didn't realise that her mum and dad were glad that there was only one toddler with the ability to climb out of bed in the house. And _if_ she realised that, she didn't care.

The smile on Remus' face quickly faded when he came back into the living room and saw everybody else looking at him. He raised his hands in a defensive way.

"Okay, okay," he said. "I'll talk."

"Good," Romulus said. "Because there are some questions that need answers."

"I suspect I'm your man." Remus took position by the fireplace; he felt more comfortable standing during explanations, and he feared this was going to take some time. He saw his mother give him an anxious look, and he smiled reassuringly at her.

"What do you want to know?" he asked.

"Tell me about Sirius Black," Romulus said. He had taken position opposite Remus, leaning against the hearth as well, almost closing the others out. This was going to be a conversation between brothers, really; the others were more audience than participants.

"I'll have to go back a long time," Remus began. "More than fourteen years, in fact." He summarised the events, he didn't think it was necessary to go into everything in-depth. The summarised version was shocking enough as it was anyway. Nobody interrupted him to express their surprise or shock, but the expressions on their faces told him enough.

"So…" Romulus said when he was done, "You're saying that _Peter Pettigrew_ was in league with… You-Know-Who, and betrayed the Potters to him?"

"Yes," Remus said simply.

"I can't believe that," Mr Lupin said. "Peter was always such a timid boy. And he always looked up to James."

"I know! I know," Remus said. "But for some reason that wasn't enough. Sirius thinks Peter joined Voldemort - " The others flinched. "- because he thought that was going to be the winning side, and it would be better to be on that side once the war ended. I myself, I don't know."

"Seems like a pretty lousy reason to betray your friends though," Julia said. "Especially when they have a small child."

"Absolutely right. Though, of course, in a twisted way, it was sort of helpful too - if Peter hadn't send… alright, _his boss_ to the Potters, he wouldn't have come across Harry, and you know what happened next."

They thought about the twisted ways fate worked in for a moment. Romulus broke the silence with: "and where is Sirius now?"

"I know where he is," Remus said, "but I'm not going to tell you."

Romulus cocked his head in a silent question.

"I know I can trust you," Remus continued, "but there's a life at stake. The fewer people know, the saver it is."

"Okay, that's reasonable. Just tell me - he's not hidden somewhere in your house, is he? That we walked passed him on numerous occasions."

"No, he's not," Remus smiled. "Not anymore, at least." He looked at his mother and grinned. "Might as well come out with the truth now. Those socks you found last summer, and the extra plate and cup, they were Sirius's. I thought it better not to tell you then."

"Oh…" she said, slightly taken aback. Her mind was still reeling with what she had just heard. "Well… that explains something."

"But if Sirius Black is innocent," Romulus said, "and Kingsley Shacklebolt knows of it, and Dumbledore, then why hasn't anyone told Fudge?"

"Because, sadly, we have no proof, nothing to convince Fudge that it's the truth, except the words of some rather unbelievable witnesses," Remus explained. "Dumbledore and Harry are thought to be off their rockers, Harry is underage anyway, I'm not thought to be very reliable either, and of course Sirius will say that he's innocent. The story is so strange too - Peter Pettigrew isn't dead, instead _he_'s the one who betrayed the Potters. It's too strange to be true."

"Hmm…" Romulus said pensively. "How come he managed to convince _you_, though?"

"I know Sirius," Remus said calmly, "and I know when he's telling the truth. Besides, the situation was so… he would gain nothing with lying. He had to be telling the truth."

"And what's Kingsley Shacklebolt doing with all this?"

"He showed up at my house one day, asking me to help him find Sirius. I figured that getting the Aurors off Sirius' back might make things easier for him, so I told Kingsley what I just told you, managed to convince him, and now he's on our side."

"And still pretending he's looking for Sirius," Romulus said shrewdly.

"Well, yes, else he'd be out of a job, wouldn't he?"

"That's true."

There was another moment of silence. Remus looked around the room. The only who didn't seem lost in thoughts or slightly confused was his sister-in-law, Julia. She had heard of Sirius, the Potters and Peter Pettigrew, but she had never actually met them, so the news didn't really hit her as much.

He looked back at Romulus, and saw that his brother was smiling faintly.

"What's so funny?"

"Not very much, actually. But I just thought that the version of the story you just told me - with Peter betraying the Potters instead of Sirius - makes a little more sense. In a 'my world got just twisted upside-down' kind of way."

"And that's a good thing, I hope?" Remus asked, just to be sure.

"Yes, I think it is."

"But there's another thing." Mrs Lupin's voice suddenly cut through her sons conversation. She had got to her feet and looked anxiously at her eldest son. "Besides Sirius."

"What do you mean?" Remus shot Romulus a puzzled look. Romulus looked back with an expression that didn't promise much help.

"There were stories…" Mrs Lupin continued. Her husband had taken her hand in a comforting way. "Last summer. About Harry Potter, and… that You-Know-Who had returned. There were rumours."

"Yes, I heard that too," Remus said calmly. He knew his mother wasn't going to like this, but it would be no use to try and keep the truth from her.

"So, they're false? Just rumours? You seem to spend a great deal of time with Albus Dumbledore these days."

"No," Remus said, speaking slowly to make them take in every word, "the rumours are true. Voldemort has returned. Harry has seen it with his own eyes."

This time, the gasps and flinches were not just because of the name. Romulus reflexively grabbed the stone fireplace, staring wide-eyed at his brother. Both Julia and Mr Lupin had abruptly sat up straight, their faces pale. Mrs Lupin had only paled a little - she had already feared the worse, and she only saw those fears confirmed.

"Tell me," she said softly, her voice shaking almost unnoticeably. "Tell me. Has Albus Dumbledore started his Order again?"

Julia had been stroking her hand over her forehead in distraction, but she stopped in the middle of this movement. "What Order?"

"A secret Order founded by Dumbledore," Remus explained. "It used to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters last time. Me, the Potters and Sirius were members of it. It sounds cooler than it is, actually."

"And have you joined him again?" his mother whispered. She had taken a few steps forward and was now standing right in front of Remus. He could look her straight in the eye - a slim, somewhat frail old woman, her white hair still long and as always tied back in a long braid. Her brown eyes, which she had fixed on Remus, were filled with fear. They were begging him not to tell her what she knew he was going to say.

"Yes," he said, and wished he didn't have to say it.

"You lie," she said. "Please tell me you're lying."

He smiled sadly, feeling immensely sorry for her. "I'm not."

She gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. She closed her eyes and, like Julia earlier, stroked with her hand over her forehead. An immense sadness shown through that simple gesture. However, when she removed her hand and opened her eyes, her face was set.

"No," she said. "I won't have it. It's too dangerous."

"I can't just step out of it," Remus said gently. "I have to do this."

"But think of it… Remus, you ran enough risk last time! Think of the people who died, because of this stupid Order!"

"Would you rather that we did nothing, and let Voldemort do as he pleases?" he said, sharper than he had intended. "Trust me, this time around we actually had a head-start, and we have spies, we know what - oh _Mum_."

His mother had burst into tears at the prospect of losing her eldest son after having fought for him for so long. In the first war, she had spend every day dreading a visit from Aurors or other members from the Order, to tell her that Remus had died a gruesome death. Although she had felt sorry for the Potters, of course, a part of her couldn't help rejoice that at least Remus was safe again. And now it started all over again.

"Please, Mum, don't cry, please." Remus rather helplessly embraced her in much the same way he had done with Molly, a few months before. She clung to him, her shoulders shaking with sobs she tried to repress. The others looked on about as helplessly as Remus felt, until Mr Lupin got to his feet, gently pried his wife off Remus and took her in his arms himself. He patted her on her back, making soft, shushing sounds.

Remus looked at his parents, his father comforting his mother, and he was strongly reminded of Arthur and Molly Weasley.

In a war, parents were usually the first to feel it.

* * *

**Author's Note  
**That was probably the cheesiest last line I ever used. Wow. New record.  
Funny thing: this chapter earned me a freaky experience, and it was all my own fault. You see, when I first thought up Margaret Wilson, I immediately had a very strong picture of her in my mind, even before I'd thought of a name for her. She was pretty much a spitting image of my Cultural Antropology of the Middle East teacher. She's one of my favourite teachers and doesn't resemble Mrs Wilson in ANY way - character-wise, at least!  
I just hadn't realised that she'd be teaching me this semester...  
I had the first class yesterday, and it was _weird_. I had to keep myself from grinning insanely as she walked into the classroom. It was literally as if one of my characters had come to life! It got especially freaky when she said the following: "people used to believe that their lives were controlled by forces from outside. I'm not sure whether it's ever been studied, but people used to believe that the moon had influence on them, that they behaved differently, for example, when it was a full moon."  
Me: oO thinks: say "werewolf" and I'll scream!  
It was just a REALLY strange coïncidence! 


	14. Christmas

**As the British would say: about bloody time! Yes, I know, this is unforgivably late. It makes it even weirder that this is the Christmas chapter when Easter was only two days away... **

**It couldn't be helped, sorry. So put those eggs away, put on a cd with Christmas carols and pretend it's snowing outside. A belated happy Christmas to you all!

* * *

****Christmas 1995.**

_"His heart swelled with happiness and relief, and he felt like joining in as they heard Sirius tramping past their door towards Buckbeak's room, singing 'God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs' at the top of his voice."_

* * *

Christmas in London gives one mixed feelings. On the one hand, there's the tourist-version: Dickens, Father Christmas instead of the American Santa Claus, Christmas crackers, real English fuzziness in front of a roaring fire. People singing Christmas carols, the three ghosts paying Scrooge a visit, Professor Tolkien faithfully writing his children letters in name of Father Christmas. On the other hand, there was the version that just wanted to make as much money as possible, even if it meant stores fit to burst with all kinds of sugar-coated Christmas decorations that made you nauseous by just looking at it. Not that the tourists saw any difference – or many of the 'native' English people, for that matter. 

It was the same in Diagon Alley, except that the Christmas decorations were wilder. Where a normal store would have only a Christmas tree in the window and Christmas lights through the store, a magical store would only be satisfied with Christmas trees in every corner, annoyingly blocking the way (one resourceful shopkeeper had hung his Christmas trees from the ceiling to prevent this), fairies for Christmas lights, strings of holly that always threatened to come crashing down on you, and enchanted Christmas baubles that blared carols at you.

And still people came in masses to Diagon Alley for their shopping. It was a miracle.

It was also a miracle, Remus thought, that so far nobody had been crushed to death in one of the shops. He sometimes feared it would happen, especially when one of the shopkeepers apparently suddenly went mad and put a 'sales!'-notice up. All the shoppers somehow knew this within five minutes and swarmed towards it like… well, like a throng of shoppers towards a shop with a 'sales'-notice. It was vital to everybody not wanting anything to do with this sale, or simply for anybody fearing for their lives, to get away as fast as possible or to just hide in a corner until the worst was over.

Christmas was the feast of peace, the days before that were those of the war of the stores.

It was no surprise that Remus always took great care to avoid the masses. Fortunately for him, he had never liked giving traditional Christmas gifts like clothes or edible things, but usually went for the utterly boring books instead. Since that was apparently unusual, he was spared the effort of wriggling through a large group of people. Most of the time anyway.

Not this year, though. This year, he wasn't just shopping for himself, but for Sirius as well. His friend had given him quite an extensive list with very clear instructions on what everybody was supposed to get. All Remus had to do was actually buy the gifts.

_It is strange, though_, he thought, as he ticked off the Weasleys, _my name isn't anywhere on the list. That either means that Sirius has forgotten me, is still cross with me – or wants to surprise me. _He hoped the latter.

He pocketed the list again and walked on, shivering in the cold. The sun was already setting, even though it was barely past four. Most of the shopkeepers had put up their lights already, bathing Diagon Alley in a soft, yellow light. Every window was a little tableau showcasing the shop's products in a Christmas theme. Remus stopped in front of one of them to look at the toy train puffing its way around a Christmas tree and a little toy village. There was real smoke coming from the train's funnel, and little toy people were skating on the little frozen pond. They were charmed so that they came alive and behaved like real people, and Remus laughed when one of them fell down, skidded several inches over the ice and knocked two others over as well.

"I didn't know you liked toy trains," an amused voice said.

"About as much as the average person does," he replied with a smile. "A mild interest, probably left over from the fascination for everything that moves on its own that is so typical for every child." He turned to his right and smiled at the woman next to him.

"Spoken like a true Remus," Tonks said, grinning. "Wotcher?"

"Still alive. You?"

"Barely. I was painfully remembered why I don't like shopping when I was standing in a queue to get my presents wrapped, and there was this woman in front of me who must've had about a gazillion presents, and she all wanted them wrapped separately and with different colours paper and different ribbons and different cards and it was just _horrible_. I barely survived."

"Yes, you do look rather tortured," he commented cruelly. "Especially the hair."

Tonks tugged her ruby-red hair. "Well, yeah, I wanted to get into the Christmas spirit, so I turned my hair red and my eyes green. I did think about doing it the other way around, but I decided that red eyes made me either look extremely evil or hung-over."

"Which was not the look you were going for?" he joked.

"Well, of course a lot of people are hung-over after Christmas, or feeling extremely murderous towards relatives after having spend two days with said people, but it isn't really the _spirit_ of Christmas, is it? I mean, most Christmas stories are about happy families and little children learning the meaning of Christmas, and not about people spending boxing day next to the toilet, desperately clutching a bottle of aspirin, or people deciding that the big steak knife can also be used to finally shut granny up about getting a decent boyfriend – "

"Am I sensing some frustration here?" Remus said mock-innocently.

"Not at all, not at all," she said in the same tone. "It's a pity, though," she went on, a sort of excited, Sirius-like glimmer in her eyes, "those stories would've been much closer to real life. And much more fun to read too."

"The Christmas Massacre," Remus said. "You really _are_ related to Sirius, aren't you?"

"Does it show?" Tonks said, stretching out her arms, striking a pose.

"I'm very sorry to say that, yes, it does."

"I'm beyond recovery. Poor me." She put up a shocked face for a moment or so, then laughed again. "I don't think I'm very sorry myself, actually."

"Like any parent or owner of a hotel would say: as long as you're happy, I'm happy."

"Parents are hotel-owners?"

"Absolutely. I'll tell you all about it some day, after I've got rid of these bags." Remus finally decided that the two bags with presents he was holding were too heavy to hold any longer, so he put them down on the cobbled street.

"You do have a _load_ of presents," Tonks commented. "Why so many?"

"Sirius ordered to buy the presents he wants to give as well," he explained.

"Oh, so mine are in there as well?" she said excitedly. "Can I see?"

"Of course not, don't be silly." Her presents _were_ in there, fortunately somewhere at the bottom. "And these are not all the presents, either – I still got to buy something for Sirius, and Harry, and my parents, and very maybe, if I can find something, a present for Dumbledore."

"What're you going to give Sirius?" Tonks asked curiously.

"I have absolutely _no _idea."

"Come, I'll come with you," she said. She picked up one of his bags. "I'm sick and tired of shopping for myself anyway." She suddenly struck an adventurous pose and said dramatically: "come, Remus! Together, we shall brave the terror that is Diagon Alley around Christmas time! It will be hard, but we will persevere, and we will be admired everywhere for our bravery and our brilliant presents."

"And thought completely insane, too," he added.

"It's a burden we must carry dutifully," she said solemnly, "so that future generations will remember us for it. Remus and Tonks the Insane but Brilliant Christmas Shoppers."

"Let us face the nightmare then," he said in the same tone. He picked up his other bag and hooked his arm through hers. "For posterity."

"For our friends."

"And family."

"For Christmas." The sigh which accompanied this was so dramatic that Remus burst into laughing.

"For bringing joy and happiness to everyone we know?" he suggested.

"I like that much better. Can I make it 'for joy and happiness, especially for ourselves'?"

"I'm not sure Father Christmas would approve of such a selfish motto. Perhaps if you made it more general?"

"For joy and happiness for all the world!" she cried out.

"And God bless us everyone!" added Remus in a sudden burst of Tiny Tim. They gravely nodded to one another and marched off in pursuit of Christmas presents, happily ignoring the smiling and shaking of the head of the people around them.

After all, it was Christmas.

* * *

After buying the Christmas presents came labelling the presents in great secrecy with everybody sneaking around trying to find out what others had bought for them, planning the Christmas dinner, decorating the house and trying to get Sirius into at least some semblance of Christmas spirit. 

It was hard: Sirius flatly refused to cheer up; he spend his days sulking around instead. The cause of his bad mood was rather obvious: Harry. Molly had suggested – rather kindly, actually – that Harry spend Christmas at the Burrow, and not at Grimmauld Place. Even Sirius saw that Harry might prefer the Weasley's house over the gloomy Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, but this realisation only depressed him more. It had been weeks since he'd seen his Godson, and although he didn't pay much attention to holidays after not having celebrated them for twelve years – after such a long time of not even noticing them, they kind of lost their meaning – it was… special. Christmas with James' son sounded right. Christmas with James' son at someone else's house didn't.

Without even discussing it, Remus and Tonks both decided to stay at Grimmauld Place on Christmas day, no matter what happened. Their quest for Christmas presents had made them get closer, and they were both aware that Sirius needed taking care of, even if he didn't want to admit it. They would have a proper, fun and festive Christmas. With or without Harry.

* * *

The house was silent. As usual. The single candle on the table and the fire in the hearth flickered, making it seem even darker than it already was. But Sirius felt too moody to light more candles – what was the use anyway? Only he and Kreacher were home. 

He reached for the bottle of Firewhiskey, poured himself another drink and drained it in one gulp. The strong liquor made him gasp, and he blinked like mad to get the tears away. The Firewhiskey seemed to burn itself to his stomach, but the pain felt good, odd as that sounded. It was a pain he could cope with.

The clock struck one. It was past midnight, but Sirius didn't feel like going to bed already. He knew that Remus wanted him to structure his life; go to bed at a normal time, get up at a decent time, eat three good meals a day, shave regularly. And Sirius actually agreed with him – when Remus was around, that is. But he found it almost ridiculously easy to ignore his friend's advice when he was all by himself. Rules were easier to ignore when Remus wasn't there to keep him to them.

"Bloody bastard, trying to mother me," Sirius muttered rebelliously. _It is for your own good_, said the Remus inside his head. But right now, Sirius couldn't care less about his own good. He took the bottle again, ready for another drink.

"Ah, here you are," a voice cut through the silence. Sirius froze in mid-reach. For one horrifying moment, the cool, disdainful, sarcastic voice had seemed Snape's. Two seconds later, he realised – almost with a feeling of relief – that it was in fact Phineas Nigellus. _Joy_.

"What do you want?" he asked, not in the most friendly way.

"Message from Dumbledore," Phineas said shortly. He wasn't in the most comfortable position; his portrait had kind of been hung away in a corner, making the angle he was looking from rather awkward. If he was leaning to the left side of his frame, he could just see his great-great-grandson. It didn't help much, of course, that Sirius wasn't making any effort to make a conversation easier.

"What?"

"He wanted me to tell you," Phineas said in a bored tone, "that Arthur Weasley has been injured rather badly and that his wife and children and Harry Potter will be coming to stay – soon."

"What?" Sirius leapt to his feet.

"Are you hard of hearing?" Phineas inquired. "I said, Arthur Weasley – "

"I heard what you said," Sirius snapped. "Get back to Dumbledore, tell him I'm all ready to welcome them."

"Children nowadays," Phineas sighed, but vanished.

Sirius paced a few rounds around the kitchen, unable to contain his excitement. _Harry! _his brain sang. Had somebody prepared a surprise, it would not have been better. Of course, he was sorry about Arthur and hoped that everything was alright, but – _Harry!_

The kitchen-door opened, and he looked up eagerly, half expecting Harry to actually walk in. He scowled when he saw who it was. Kreacher.

"What are you doing here?" he snarled. The house-elf eyed him disdainfully.

"Kreacher is cleaning up," he said with his croaky voice. "Kreacher is happy to serve."

"No he's not," Sirius said, and he wanted to slap himself when he noticed he'd adopted the elf's speech-pattern. "We'll be receiving guests soon, so you'd better behave."

"Guests?" Kreacher sounded revolted, as if this whole idea of 'guests' was something disgusting. "Who will be visiting us, Kreacher wonders." He added in an undertone: "who would want to visit us, a once noble house, now a house of filth, what would the Mistress say…"

"The Weasleys and Harry are coming," Sirius said shortly. "Arthur's been badly wounded. And I won't have any of that muttering and insulting, understood? They are our _guests_ and will be treated as such!"

Kreacher muttered something inaudible, but didn't seem to make any further objections. It was just as well, because almost seconds later, a large group of people appeared right in the kitchen. The children.

For a moment, Sirius felt as if nailed to the ground. An insane feeling of happiness fluttered through him when he saw the all too familiar black dishevelled hair amidst the redheads. Kreacher, however, skilfully managed to turn his happiness into annoyance.

"Back again, the blood-traitor brats," the house-elf said with barely concealed glee. "Is it true their father's dying?"

Sirius stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. He felt ready to kick Kreacher. "OUT!" he roared, pointing towards the door. Kreacher looked up at him, smiling as though he had just succeeded at something. _Succeeded at insulting the Weasleys once again, no doubt_, Sirius thought with disgust. He jabbed his finger at the door again, and Kreacher left, still smirking. Right before he closed the door behind him, he shot Sirius a particularly nasty glare, but the man didn't notice that anymore.

"What's going on?" he said. He reached out to help Ginny to her feet. "Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured – "

"Ask Harry," said Fred, scrambling to his feet himself.

"Yeah, I want to hear this for myself," said George. He, his twin and Ginny gave Harry an almost accusing look. Sirius looked at his Godson, interested too but slightly reluctant to push the boy into telling anything.

"It was –" Harry began a bit uncertainly. "I had a – a kind of – vision." He told, in very broad strokes, how he had seen how a snake had attacked Arthur Weasley, who had been sitting on the floor wrapped in an Invisibility Cloak, how Arthur had began to bleed, that he had woken up, and how he'd warned McGonagall and Dumbledore. A tense silence followed his words. Ron was pale, the twins and Ginny were giving Harry apprehensive looks, but none of them objected or accused the boy of anything.

Fred turned to Sirius. "Is Mum here?" he asked.

"She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet," said Sirius. "The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now."

"We've got to go to St Mungo's," interrupted Ginny, sounding urgently. She had her hands in the pockets of her dressing gown, and she wore a determined expression on her face. "Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything?"

"Hang on," Sirius said. "You can't go tearing off to St Mungo's!"

"Course we can go to St Mungo's if we want,' Fred objected. "He's our dad!"

"And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?" Sirius demanded.

"What does that matter?" George replied.

"It matters," Sirius pointed out rather sharply, "because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away! Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?"

The twins shot him two identical angry glares.

"Somebody else could have told us…" Ginny tried. "We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry."

"Like who?" said Sirius sceptically. "Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's –"

"We don't care about the dumb Order!" shouted Fred.

"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" George added.

"Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!" said Sirius, equally angry. He didn't seem to be able to make the children _understand_. He wanted to shake them to make them see sense. "This is how it is – this is why you're not in the Order – you don't understand – there are things worth dying for!'

"Easy for you to say, stuck here!" roared Fred. "I don't see you risking your neck!"

For a moment, Sirius got so angry he was afraid he was going to faint. It was as if Snape was speaking through these two mouths. With an almost inhuman effort, he restrained himself, and said, through gritted teeth: "I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?" The last two words came out sharper than were probably necessary.

The twins still looked ready to take Floo powder and rush to St Mungo's. Ginny, however, gave a resigned, small sigh and dispiritedly sat herself down on a chair. Ron and Harry followed her example, and, after a few moments, the twins did so too.

"That's right," said Sirius hopefully, "come on, let's all – " he looked around for something to do, and his eyes fell on the bottle of Firewhiskey, "– let's all have a drink while we're waiting. _Accio Butterbeer_!" The door to the pantry opened and six bottles of Butterbeer came zooming out of it. They crashed rather inelegantly down on the table, scattered the remains of Sirius' dinner, and stopped right in front of the children.

They drank in silence; only the ticking of the clock could be heard. The twins were still glaring at everything in the room. Ron seemed in shock, Ginny looked as pale as her brother, Harry carefully avoided everybody's eyes. They could do nothing but wait.

They all jumped when a burst of fire suddenly appeared in mid-air. A scroll of parchment fell from it, together with a golden feather. A phoenix feather.

"Fawkes!" Sirius immediately reached the right conclusion. He snatched up the parchment and looked at the address. The writing, however, was not the neat handwriting he'd expected. "That's not Dumbledore's writing," he said. He looked up at George. "It must be a message from your mother – here –"

He handed the letter to the boy, who opened it and began reading aloud: _"Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum_._" _He looked up, looking worried. "'Still alive…" he said slowly. "But that makes it sound…"

_As if he was almost dead_, Sirius thought. He wasn't the only one thinking it – Fred took the letter from his brother and scanned it as though he hoped it actually said something else. Ron was staring at the letter intently, seeming to _will _it to change the message.

They sat down again, restlessly. Time seemed to go even slower now than it had done before. Although Sirius half-heartedly suggested they go to bed and get some sleep, none of the children felt anything for that suggestion. They were too worried.

Sirius glanced at his Godson ever so often, unsure what to do. He had never known exactly how to deal with grief or sorrow – he usually expressed his sympathy, tried a small joke and then ran. But running wasn't an option now; he was supposed to take care of these kids. If only he knew _how_...

It was a relief in more ways than one when, seemingly after a century of waiting, Molly Weasley finally entered the kitchen. She looked very tired and worried, but she smiled when she saw them all looking at her, Fred, Ron and Harry even half risen from their chairs.

"He's going to be all right," she said, causing a sigh of relief from everybody. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work."

Happiness all around. George and Ginny got up and hugged their mother. Ron laughed and finally drained his bottle of Butterbeer. Sirius felt so relieved that Arthur was going to be alright _and _he didn't appear to have screwed up in managing the children, that he jumped to his feet and announced that this called for breakfast. "Where's that accursed house-elf?" he said. "Kreacher! KREACHER!" After allowing the elf ten seconds to appear, he shrugged it off – he didn't really need Kreacher anyway. "Oh, forget it, then," he muttered, and quickly counted the people in front of him. "So, it's breakfast for – let's see – seven… bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast –'

He busied himself with breakfast, together with Harry. In mere minutes, tea, toast, bacon, scrambled eggs and a large steaming pot of coffee appeared on the table. Sirius' excited mood was dimmed for a moment when he saw that Molly suddenly hugged Harry.

"I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Harry," she said softly, so that the rest of the children wouldn't hear. "They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis…"

Harry looked utterly embarrassed and uncomfortable. After she'd released him, Molly turned to Sirius, and with a look of sincerity on her face, said: "thank you for looking after the children, Sirius. It was one worry less that I knew they were safe."

Now it was time for Sirius to feel uncomfortable. "Don't mention it," he said quickly. "I'm just glad I could help. They weren't any trouble, really. You can stay longer, if you need to – take until Arthur gets out of St Mungo's again, the house is big enough to fit you all." Not to mention that it would mean no lonely Christmas for him.

"Oh, Sirius, I'm so grateful," Molly said, beaming. "They think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer… of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas."

"The more the merrier!" said Sirius. As though he would _mind_ having Harry over. Molly smiled, put on an apron and took over making breakfast.

Harry moved over to Sirius and pulled his sleeve. "Sirius," he said quietly, giving the others slightly apprehensive glances. "Can I have a quick word? Er – now?"

Sirius nodded wordlessly and followed his Godson into the dark pantry. Without wasting a moment's time, Harry began talking – telling a whole different tale than he had done before. This was the truth, Sirius realised. Harry hadn't just witnessed the snake attacking Arthur – he had _been _the snake. Somehow, he had possessed the animal, or even just shared it's brain. Either which way, it didn't sound good.

When Harry stopped his ramble to take a deep breath, Sirius interrupted and said: "Did you tell Dumbledore this?"

"Yes," said Harry, sounding slightly annoyed, "but he didn't tell me what it meant. Well, he doesn't tell me anything any more."

"I'm sure he would have told you if it was anything to worry about," Sirius said reassuringly.

"But that's not all," Harry continued urgently, almost breathing the words. "Sirius, I… I think I'm going mad. Back in Dumbledore's office, just before we took the Portkey… for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, _I felt _like one – my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore – Sirius, I wanted to attack him!" The small strip of light that fell into the pantry flashed on Harry's glasses as he moved his head. It was all Sirius could see of his Godson.

"It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that's all," said Sirius, trying to comfort the boy as much as himself. "You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and –"

"It wasn't that," interrupted Harry. He shook his head, again making his glasses shine. "It was like something rose up inside me, like there's a _snake _inside me."

It was lucky it was dark, so Harry couldn't see that Sirius was looking worriedly at him. When he spoke, however, his voice was firm and clear. "You need to sleep," he said. "You're going to have breakfast, then go upstairs to bed, and after lunch you can go and see Arthur with the others. You're in shock, Harry; you're blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it's lucky you _did _witness it or Arthur might have died. Just stop worrying." Again, he was just as much talking to himself as to his Godson. He couldn't deal with this, not so sudden.

Instead, he stayed true to himself. He clapped Harry on the shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring way and left the pantry. He resolved to ask Dumbledore or anyone else from the Order what to do about this as soon as possible.

Because if Harry went mad, he wouldn't know what to do.

* * *

Sometimes, Remus felt like screwing his head off and selling it to the highest bidder. Those days were usually preceded by either a full moon or an extremely busy day for the Order. He had spend most of his day worrying about Arthur and trying to figure out exactly what had happened, and it wasn't exactly as if he had had much sleep the night before either. 

It took him a few moments to realise that he was tapping the door-post instead of the door itself. He groaned, rubbed his face and opened the door.

He stepped into the dark hall, and was about to walk upstairs when he heard footsteps. Ginny Weasley walked down the stairs, smiled, said "hi, professor," and disappeared into the kitchen.

He was suddenly wide awake. He had been so enormously sleepy, he'd just imagined Ginny Weasley – who should be at Hogwarts right now – walking past. Or she'd died and had taken to haunting Grimmauld Place. Or she'd got kicked out of school – which would mean she'd died too, since Molly would have strangled her. For a moment, he thought about following her to the kitchen, but decided he'd sort it out later. Whatever it was, it could wait. He needed sleep. Badly. He couldn't think straight anymore.

He stomped up the stairs (quietly, so Mrs Black wouldn't wake up) to the first landing, where he met Tonks. She was just coming from upstairs.

"Did you hear?" she asked.

"Hear what?" he said. "I didn't hear anything, just that Arthur Weasley was attacked. How is he? What is Ginny doing downstairs?" For some reasons, the questions seemed equally as important.

"Arthur's fine," she said. "We visited him this afternoon. He was rather badly hurt, but he'll live through it – and with some interesting scars too. And it's not just Ginny who's staying here. All the Weasleys are, and Harry too."

It took Remus only a little effort to imagine how happy Sirius felt about that. "Was that your idea?" he asked. "As a Christmas gift?"

"Absolutely not. Wish I'd thought of it, though. No, if anybody's, it was Sirius' idea – "

She was cut off by the apparent owner of the idea coming down the stairs. "Remus, finally!" was the first thing he said. Remus noticed his friend was smiling almost a little too broadly. "I was wondering when you'd show up. Did you hear?"

"Everybody's assuming I've heard everything," Remus complained, "but I haven't. I don't know anything. What's exactly happened to Arthur? Where is he hurt? How badly? When? And why are the Weasleys and Harry here instead of at Hogwarts or the Burrow? Whose idea was that?"

"Voldemort's," Sirius said cheerfully. He ignored Tonks' flinch.

Remus blinked, then rubbed his face again. _Must be falling asleep again._ "Okay," he said. "Tell me. Slowly. And use small words please. Because I'm having the feeling this is just getting weirder and weirder."

* * *

"What would happen," Tonks asked loudly, "if I took this nice biscuit shaped like a beautiful Christmas tree –" she held up the biscuit to emphasise her words, "- and crumbled it in Sirius' neck, spilling crumbs all through his shirt?" They were currently in the drawing room, putting the last hand to the Christmas tree. Molly had put a large plate with biscuits on the table, which Sirius and Tonks had been raiding for the last half-hour or so. 

"I don't advice it," Remus said, "He'd retaliate, and it would leave a terrible mess."

"Shame 'bout the biscuit too," Sirius said, taking a few minutes rest from what seemed like a non-stop rendition of every Christmas carol in existence – and a few made up on the spot. It was the reason why Tonks was now plotting food-vengeance.

"It would be worth it," Tonks said viciously. "Because I think my brain is melting."

"Is it going to leave your head through your nose like some interesting kind of – " Sirius began a question.

"My braincells are dying too," Remus interrupted, "and no, my brain is _not _going to drip out of my nose like jelly. Stop it, Padfoot."

"Now, Moony, think of the Christmas spirit," Sirius reprimanded. "Besides, since when do you two take sides against me? Or…" he suddenly winked, "is there something you want to tell me? Hm?"

"Okay, that's it." Remus threw down the tinsel he had been holding. "Tonks, get that biscuit, I'll hold his neck still."

This year, the spirit of Christmas involved a lot of crumbs on the floor, Molly fussing about having to clean it all again, and Sirius trying to hide the fact that he spend the rest of the evening scratching his neck because the crumbs itched. It was the best Christmas Remus had had in years.

* * *

Having an entire king-size bed to yourself can be very useful. It's not just that you can lie spread-eagle or diagonally on it, or use the other half to store books, or even eat toast or biscuits on one half and sleep on the non-crumbly half. Remus found out another use on Christmas-morning, when he opened his eyes and saw the dozen-or-so presents piled up next to him. 

His eyes widened with glee, and he abruptly sat upright. Joy over Christmas presents is something one hardly ever grows out of, so he wasted no time and took the first present, a squarish one wrapped in blue paper, from Romulus. It was a book of course. Surprisingly enough, though, he was the only one who had gone for the predictable. The others had either gone for practical things (both his parents and the Weasleys had given him clothes) or impractical but nice presents, like a wooden elephant, courtesy of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Remus wasn't quite sure what he was going to do with a five inches-high wooden elephant that smelled like exotic herbs, but he liked it. He put it on his bedside table for the time being.

He was about to unwrap Tonks' present when the door peeped open and Sirius stuck his head around it.

"Ah, you're awake?" he asked for the obvious.

"No, sleepwalking," Remus said. His friend grinned. He walked towards the bed and plopped down on it, making both Remus and the heap of presents bounce.

"What did Molly give you?" he wanted to know, surveying the unwrapped gifts.

"She knitted me a jumper," Remus said, half-sighing. He unearthed the moss-green piece of clothing. It was rather lumpy, made of wool, and although Remus appreciated a warm jumper, he probably wouldn't have chosen this particular colour or model. Still, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth; he would wear it all the same.

"You got a green one!" Sirius said. "It's not fair, she made me a dark purple one. Want to trade?"

"Of course not," Remus answered. "That would be rude."

"I suppose so," Sirius sighed. "Anyway. How did you like my gift?"

"Haven't unwrapped it yet. I was about to do Tonks' present." He put his words into action and tore the paper off. Out fell a dark-blue T-shirt with four wild-haired people on it. There was a list of song-titles on the back, written in silver letters.

It was a vintage band-shirt of Incantation, Remus' favourite band.

A few weeks ago, Tonks had been wearing a Weird Sister-shirt, which had caused Sirius and Remus to lecture her about _good _music. She had looked at them with the usual look that made both of them suddenly feel very old and out of touch with modern times, but nevertheless, she'd remembered the discussion and been so thoughtful to buy something she knew Remus would like. And not just Remus, for that matter.

"Where did she get _that_?" Sirius gasped. "I want one too!"

"Indeed, where did she get it?" Remus said. "If I knew you could still get those, I'd have bought them myself."

"It's not fair, she got me a plush dog. A _black_ dog."

"Padfoot, if you wanted fair presents, you should have given us all a list."

"So I wouldn't get a book with – what was it again? – _'Seventy-five popular Christmas carols'_, you mean?"

"That was not so much a present for you as it was for us all," Remus smiled. "Hopefully, you'll now finally get the lyrics right. Besides, I'd promised you last year I'd get it for you." He had only remembered it last minute, when Tonks and he passed a bookstore on their way to the Leaky Cauldron, but Sirius didn't need to know that.

"Damn your memory." Sirius stuck out his tongue. "Shall we go downstairs and have breakfast?"

"Yes, after I unwrapped your present." Sirius' present didn't look like much. In fact, it was just an envelope. "Please tell me it's not money again," Remus said.

"It's not money again," Sirius assured him. "Trust me."

Remus gave his friend a look that told him 'it'd better not be', opened the envelope and took out a single piece of parchment. His eyes widened. "'Life-long permission to use the Black family library at number 12, Grimmauld Place'?" he read incredulously.

"It's not money," Sirius repeated, grinning.

"Yes, but… _life-long permission_."

"It means that you're still allowed to use it when you're old and grey. Greyer than now anyway."

"I know that." Remus shot Sirius an annoyed glare. "But… life-long permission."

"I would have _given_ it to you, of course," Sirius said, stretching out on the bed lazily, "but I think the books are better off where they are now, and besides, one doesn't lightly give away one of the finest collections of books in Great Britain, does one?"

"So one gives life-long permission."

"Moony, stop sounding like a broken record."

Remus stopped sounding like a broken record. They both got dressed, then went downstairs for a Christmas breakfast. The house had never seemed so cheerful and filled with people, everybody wishing one another a merry Christmas. Everywhere you looked it glittered, either with tinsel or magical snow. The shrunken heads of former house-elves had Father Christmas-hats on them, and somebody had even pinned the curtains in front of Mrs Black's portrait shut with a safety pin and a piece of holly.

"Wish we'd thought of that before," Sirius whispered.

Molly was already downstairs, in the kitchen, whipping up a lavish breakfast. Fred and George were there too, trying to eat everything their mother put on the table. Fortunately for the others, their mother could cook faster than they could eat. Remus and Sirius helped themselves to breakfast, Remus making sure that Sirius filled his plate well and would eat enough.

"So," Sirius said after a while, between scrambled eggs and sausages, "you're going to St Mungo's this afternoon?"

"Yes, we can hardly leave Arthur alone on Christmas day, can we?" Molly put another plate of bacon on the table, which the twins immediately raided.

"You're going too?" Sirius asked Remus.

Remus swallowed his mouthful of toast. "Yep, together with Moody. Harry's coming too, and he needs protection."

"Those fans," Fred sighed dramatically, "can't leave Harry alone, can they?"

George grinned, Remus, Sirius and Molly stared. Remus was sure that he saw the corners of Sirius' mouth twitch, however.

The door to the hall opened and Moody came stomping down the stairs, wrapped in a warm travelling cloak and carrying a package.

"Happy Christmas," he said gruffly. "I got a package for you, it came through the mail." He handed it to Molly, then sat down, eyed the food on the table suspiciously and took out his own flask.

"You sure it's nothing dangerous, Mad-Eye?" Sirius asked, smiling.

"I triple-checked it," the former Auror said. "Pretty sure."

Molly had turned the square, flat package over. "It's from Percy," she said. An odd quiver in her voice made Remus look up in alarm. It didn't sound good.

"Percy send a Christmas gift?" George said.

"Well, that's a first," Fred added.

"No," Molly said difficulty, "he send it back." She showed them Percy's address, written in her own handwriting.

"Oh…" said George, voicing what the rest was thinking. "Well… um."

His mother opened the package. She took out a hand-knitted jumper, untouched. There was no note with it, nothing. Percy had send it back without even looking at it.

Molly clutched the jumper desperately. Her lower lip trembled, she had tears in her eyes. The mere sight of this made the five men panic.

"Aw, mum, please don't cry," Fred pleaded.

"It's only Percy," George tried. "Don't worry about that – "

"Humungous pile of rat droppings," Fred finished.

It didn't have the desired effect. Tears now rolled down Molly's cheeks. George made a sort of desperate gesture towards Remus; for some reason, he seemed the most likely person to go to in this kind of situations.

"Boys, why don't you go upstairs and check if the others are awake yet?" he suggested. The twins took this reason to leave with both hands and immediately Disapparated, leaving Remus to deal with there mother.

Remus walked towards Molly and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. "There, now, please don't cry," he said. "It's going to be alright, honestly."

It wasn't, not for him at least. She flung her arms around him and cried desperately into his shoulder, making him feel even more uncomfortable. Apparently him trying to comfort her after she'd tried to get rid of the Boggart, months ago, had convinced her that he was easy to cry on.

Sirius tried his best to be nice too. He wasn't one for comforting, but he tried, he really did. He poured a cup of tea, added lots of sugar and handed it to her with a slightly sheepish expression on his face.

"Remus is right," he said, "Percy will come round, honestly. Just wait, next Christmas you'll be able to give your presents in person."

She smiled weakly at him. "T-thanks," she said. She took the cup of tea he offered her and took a small gulp, flinching at the amount of sugar. She sniffed pathetically.

Remus patted her on the back, and they kept saying uplifting things until they were fairly sure the worst was over.

"Now," she said, mopping her eyes with a handkerchief. "I – I really must get on, there's a large turkey to prepare for lunch…"

"I'll help," Sirius offered immediately, despite not having any idea how to cook; he was just happy that the crying was over. Remus and Moody left the two to the turkey and went upstairs to discuss the planned visit to St Mungo's – Moody insisted on going over it once more.

The Christmas lunch was uneventful. Mundungus, who was to take them to St Mungo's, showed perfect timing with arriving just in time for the pudding. After the lunch, they put on their coats, promised Sirius that yes, they'd all come back for Christmas dinner, then crammed themselves into Mundungus' car and drove off to the magical hospital.

As expected, St Mungo's was about as festively decorated as Grimmauld Place. The orbs that normally illuminated the rooms and hallways had now been coloured red and gold to resemble large Christmas baubles, there were Christmas trees covered with magical snow and icicles in every corner, and every member of the staff wore a twig of holly on their robes.

There weren't that many people around this time, but those they did see were quite a sight. The Christmas tension of being forced to spend time with relatives had already taken a toll on some witches and wizards. As the Weasleys, Hermione, Remus and Moody crossed the reception area, a witch with a satsuma jammed up her nose passed them, looking still angry with whoever did this to her. Remus remembered with a smile how Tonks had sighed at the prospect of spending the day with her family, and he sincerely hoped Grandma wasn't sitting too close to the steak knife. She had been planning to stay at Grimmauld Place today, but her mother had overruled her ("she must've used the Imperio curse somehow, I'm sure," Tonks claimed). But she would, she had sworn, come over tonight, even if she had to fight ten mothers for it.

They left the satsuma-ed witch to the welcome-witch behind the desk and went upstairs, to the first floor, where Arthur was staying. Bill opened the door to the 'Dangerous' Dai Llewellyn ward and let them all in, except for Moody, who stated that he was going to sit in the corridor, guarding the door.

Remus felt a strange sensation when he walked in. He was pretty sure he had never been here before in his life, and yet there was a surge of familiarity when he entered. It wasn't exactly a familiar smell, or sight… It puzzled him, until he looked around and saw the man in the bed opposite Arthur's look at him, giving him a strange, frowning look.

_Of course. Werewolf. _He gave the man a bracing smile, then joined the others at Arthur's bed, all the while still aware of the man's eyes on his back.

Arthur was sitting propped up in his bed, a tray with the remnants of a turkey dinner on his lap. He was looking at them all with a strange expression on his face. He looked almost frightened when he looked at Molly, but his wife didn't seem to notice.

"Everything all right, Arthur?" she asked, after the usual greetings and handing-over of presents.

"Fine, fine," Arthur said, sounding a bit uncomfortable. "You – er – haven't seen Healer Smethwyck, have you?"

"No," said Molly, frowning suspiciously, "why?"

"Nothing, nothing," said Mr Weasley quickly. He took the first present and began to unwrap it, trying to avoid a reprimand from his wife. "Well, everyone had a good day?" he said cheerfully, steering the focus away from himself. "What did you all get for Christmas? Oh, _Harry – _this is absolutely wonderful!" Harry had given him a set of screwdrivers and fuse-wire, and it absolutely delighted Arthur.

His trick of getting Molly off his back didn't work; she could be very stubborn if she suspected somebody of doing something wrong. When Arthur leaned forward to shake Harry's hand in gratitude, she took the opportunity to peer at her husband's bandaging.

"Arthur," she said sharply, "you've had your bandages changed. Why have you had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur? They told me they wouldn't need doing until tomorrow."

Arthur looked like a deer caught in headlights. "What?" he said, in one last, feeble effort to pacify Molly. He pulled the bed covers higher up as if he was trying to protect himself. "No, no – it's nothing - it's – _l – _" Molly shot him an piercing look, and Arthur's courage failed him. He went for the defensive tactic. "Well – now don't get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye had an idea… he's the Trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap and very interested in… um… complementary medicine… I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies… well, they're called stitches, Molly, and they work very well on – on Muggle wounds –"

If he had hoped Molly would be happy with this, he was now proven wrong. She let out a foreboding sound, a sort of cross between a snort and a gasp. She didn't notice that her children were giving her apprehensive looks (save for the twins, who looked positively amused) or that Hermione, having the feeling that stitches wasn't something Mrs Weasley would approve of, was slowly getting to her feet, ready to run

Remus found himself slowly walking backwards, not wanting to get involved in a marital argument. Especially not when one of the people arguing was Molly Weasley. He crossed the ward, headed straight for the bed opposite Arthur's and sat himself down, surprising himself somewhat with his action.

"Good afternoon," he said to the man in the bed, who looked back, astounded. He opened his mouth to say something, but his attention was suddenly drawn by a burst from the other side of the ward. Molly had been working herself up more and more. The twins and Bill had already ran for cover (or a cup of tea, as they claimed); Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were looking as though they were beginning to think this an excellent idea.

"Do you mean to tell me," Molly snarled to her husband, "that you have been messing about with Muggle remedies?"

"Not messing about, Molly, dear," Arthur tried to save the situation, "it was just – just something Pye and I thought we'd try – only, most unfortunately – well, with these particular kinds of wounds – it doesn't seem to work as well as we'd hoped –"

"_Meaning?_"

"Well…" stuttered Arthur, "well, I don't know whether you know what – what stitches are?"

"It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skin back together," Molly said, snorting, "but even you, Arthur, wouldn't be _that _stupid –"

The bomb was about to go off. The four remaining children were well aware of it and jumped to their feet and ran, claiming that they too wanted a cup of tea. It was just in time, too.

"Well," mumbled Arthur, "that's – that's the general idea actually…"

Molly seemed to choke on her own anger. Remus was now wishing that he too had gone for a cup of tea as he saw her face get red. She seemed to blow herself up like a bullfrog, and he hastily turned to his fellow werewolf in the bed.

"I think you'd better cover your ears – " he said. Too late. Molly exploded.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?" she bellowed, making the three others in the room flinch.

"I – uh," Arthur stuttered. He really shouldn't have; protesting only angered Molly more.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THE NERVE OF YOU," she shouted, "MUGGLE REMEDIES, OF ALL THINGS!"

Both Remus and the man on the bed were by now covering their ears with their hands – to them, it seemed as though Molly was standing right next to them and screaming directly in their ears. Sadly, it didn't help much, and Remus was therefore utterly relieved to see a Healer run into the ward, looking around to find out what caused all the commotion.

"What is going on here?" he asked, unwisely drawing Molly's attention to himself.

"Healer Smethwyck!" Molly snapped. "Thank Merlin. Do you _know _what my husband has _done_ to himself?"

"Yes, of course I do," Smethwyck said innocently. "Why? Has anything gone wrong?" He moved to look at Arthur's bandages.

"Not yet it hasn't!" Molly snarled. "And why hasn't anyone told _me _about this?"

"We haven't had the opportunity yet," said Smethwyck, very reasonably in Remus' opinion. Not so in Molly's, though – she was looking daggers at the poor Healer.

"Well, I know _now_," she said, "and I want you to take them out. _Muggle _remedies, I ask you." She turned to Arthur, who flinched already. "Honestly, this is taking your Muggle-love a step to far, Arthur!"

"Yes dear," he mumbled.

"But," Smethwyck protested, "the stitches don't do any harm. Yes, it's a bit of an… unconventional remedy, but so far it's done no – "

Molly glared.

"But if you insist…" he trailed off, intimidated.

"I do insist." Molly looked positively murderous, so the Healer sighed and began drawing the curtains around Arthur's bed shut. As he did so, he caught sight of Remus sitting next to the other werewolf's bed.

"Everything alri-" he began, but stopped abruptly when Remus turned to look at him. He gave them a curt nod and what almost seemed like half a smile, then he jerked the last curtain shut.

Remus turned around again and smiled at the man on the bed, who stared back.

"What was _that_ all about?" he asked.

"Very long story," Remus said. "Let's just say that he is fonder of Muggles than she is." He stretched out his hand. "I'm Remus Lupin."

The man did not return the greeting. Instead, he eyed Remus a bit suspiciously. "Do I know you..?" he wondered aloud.

Remus allowed himself a small grin. "No, but I'm not surprised you're thinking that. Perhaps, if you take a good look, you'll see."

The man on the bed frowned and studied Remus' face carefully. Remus knew he had realised when he saw the other man's eyes – darker yellow than his own, but distinctly yellow all the same – widen. "My God," he whispered, instinctively jerking back from Remus. "You're one of _them_."

"As are you, if I may point it out," said Remus calmly. He didn't know why he was feeling so calm; for all he knew, he would get the same reaction Mrs Wilson gave him a few weeks ago.

The calm statement seemed to have calmed the man down a bit, and he eased back into his pillows. "What are you doing here?" he said, sounding slightly accusatory.

"I was paying a visit to a friend of mine," Remus answered, nodding towards the still closed curtains. "But he seemed to be… occupied with something else."

"So you're the one he was talking about," the man stated.

"He told me about you?" Remus asked, surprised.

"Yeah. He tried to cheer me up I suppose; kept going on about how you didn't think it that bad to be… what you are."

"A werewolf, you mean," Remus said the word the other couldn't. "And he was right. Others seem to make a bigger fuss about it than I do."

The man snorted. "All the same, I bet people aren't exactly happy to have you around, do they? Apart from that guy overthere –" he nodded to where Arthur was still hidden behind the curtains, "– and he doesn't exactly seem to be normal either."

"He's just a bit… eccentric," Remus defended Arthur. "And either way, I have plenty of friends who are completely normal." _Like the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and Sirius Black, Harry Potter, an Auror who can change her appearance at will and another one who's supposed to be looking for Sirius… _

The other still looked sceptical. "And they know what you are?" he asked.

"Yes, of course."

"You didn't tell them straight away, did you?"

Touché. Remus fell silent for a moment. The only one who'd known about him being a werewolf from even since before they'd met, was Dumbledore. Everybody else had always known him for weeks – it had even taken Kingsley some time before he found out that Remus was registered at the Werewolf Registry.

"No," he said eventually. "I didn't."

The man smiled wryly. "Not such a perfect life after all, isn't it?"

"I never said it was _perfect_," Remus said irritably. "Nobody ever did. Yes, it's lousy, in many respects. There're things you can't do, the Change is literally a pain and people hate you for what's actually no reason at all. But there's still a lot you _can_ do, and we're only in wolf-form for once a month anyway. It's not as if I'm walking around with paws half the time, nor am I looking at little children and picking out the fattest, tastiest one. Like I said, _other people _make more of a fuss about it than it actually is."

Silence. Remus was suddenly uncomfortably aware that even the people behind the curtain appeared to have fallen silent. _That'll teach me for pouring my heart out with other people around… _he thought.

"Uh… understood?" he asked sheepishly.

Thankfully, the other man smiled. "Yes, understood."

The curtains around Arthur's bed swung open, revealing Arthur, Molly and Healer Smethwyck. Remus studied their faces, trying to see any sign that they had overheard him, but either they hadn't or they had very good pokerfaces.

"Well," said Molly briskly, "I think it's time we leave." She gave her husband a sharp look. "Let's stick to magical medicines from now on, right, Arthur?"

"Yes," said Arthur obediently. Remus noticed that Smethwyck was carrying a small bowl; he suspected it contained the stitches the Healer had just taken out.

"Good." Molly straightened her back and shifted her attention to Remus. "Do you know where the children are?"

"They went to get tea," he said. "At least, that's what they said."

"Let's go and pick them up then," she said, putting on her cloak and walking towards the door. As she passed the werewolf opposite her husband, there was a short awkward moment – she hesitated for a second before she smiled and nodded at him.

Remus looked at the man in the bed, rolled his eyes and gave a bracing smile. "Other people…" he mouthed, getting to his feet.

The sad expression on the man's face disappeared and he gave a genuine smile. Remus stretched out his hand, and this time, he did take and shook it.

"Until next time," Remus said.

"I'm Edward, by the way," the man made up for his hostile behaviour earlier.

"Merry Christmas then, Edward."

As he walked out of the ward, he could feel Edward's eyes on him. But this time it wasn't a suspicious or angry kind of look – it was an appreciative one. Perhaps werewolves weren't so bad after all. And as Remus closed the door behind him, he had to smile when he thought: _it's like Tonks said: for joy and happiness for all the world. And God bless us everyone. _

* * *

**Author's Note**

EDWARD? I hear you cry. Yes, Edward. Why Edward? I was going to name him Edmund (if I recall correctly, St Edmund was a saint who tamed a wolf or something like that) but it made me think of Rowan Atkinson as Edmund Blackadder, which made me giggle uncontrollably, and it didn't help with writing. So I changed it into Edward instead.

The problem with taking five weeks to write a single chapter is that when you reach the end, you've forgotten things you wrote in the beginning, like Remus having no idea what to buy Sirius but suddenly remembering he knew all along, or Tonks swearing she'd be at Grimmauld Place and then not showing up after all. With some twisting and pulling explainations from my sleeve, I managed to make it all make sense. While I was doing that, I also made sense of a mistake Jo Rowling made: the Mysterious Disappearance of Mad-Eye Moody. She announces happily that Remus and Moody are going to take the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione to St Mungo's- but Moody never shows up. Mundungus does, yes, but Moody doesn't. He's not counted with the people cramming themselves into Dung's car and he (consequently) doesn't show up in St Mungo's either. It's a bit puzzling, really - it's certainly not in his character not to come. So I had him sit in the corridor instead... Stupid Jo, making poor little fanfictionauthor's care for mistakes she made... ;-)


	15. Occlumency

**Again later than I'd hoped, but here's the new update! **

**

* * *

January 1996.**

_"The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term."_

* * *

The last few days of December and of the year 1995 were filled with madness, silly pranks, delicious dinners courtesy of Molly Weasley and a sentimental feeling of happiness because they all liked each other so much. Given those wonderful days, it wasn't that surprising that, after Christmas had passed and 1996 had begun, everybody fell in the black hole also known as January.

It hit Sirius worse than others. Having been locked up in number 12 Grimmauld place had made him more prone to be depressed anyway. But somehow, he had managed to forget that in the days between Christmas and new year, and he had even almost managed to convince himself that it was going to last forever. But after they had woken up from their champagne-hangover on January the first, the children's return to Hogwarts was suddenly only slightly over a week away instead of the safely distant 'next year'. Sirius took to locking himself up in Buckbeak's room, claiming that the animal needed the company after having been neglected for so long. In truth, it was an almost unconscious attempt to make the inevitable parting less painful than it would have been had he spend a lot of time with Harry.

Remus wasn't there to help him. Apart from his normal work for the Order of the Phoenix, he spend most of his time in the 'Dangerous' Dai Llewllyn ward in St Mungo's, convincing Edward, recently bitten by a werewolf, that Lycantropy wasn't the end of the world. One might even say that it opened a completely new one.

Edward was more than willing to learn how to cope with his new life. For him, it was immensely reassuring to hear that being a werewolf wasn't as bad as people made it out to be, that the so-called unbearable life were actually just a few inconvenient things, like an allergy for silver, more body-hair and a better sense of smell, sight and hear (which could be a blessing or a curse, depending on the situation). Remus made him realise that werewolves weren't monsters who murdered and ate people for fun. Instead, they were normal, did normal things and looked like normal people – like himself. The problem was the immense prejudice 'normal' witches and wizards had against werewolves. No matter how nice, social and well-adjusted they were, the rest of the world would always see them as the bad guys, using them as a bogeyman to scare little children. Every time Edward became depressed at the thought of how people would think of him now, Remus repeated what had almost become a mantra: other people make more of a fuss about it than it really is. That, compared with Remus' own cheerful, no-nonsense attitude, never failed to raise Edward' spirits again.

It helped a lot, though, that his prospects were quite a lot better than Remus'. He had a steady income, for one thing: he had a store in a small town in Herefordshire, which sold stationary and magazines both to Muggles and the few wizards living nearby. Remus advised him to get an account at a Muggle bank and advertise more towards the Muggles, since they wouldn't be prejudiced against a species they didn't even believe existed. It was a good way to avoid the restrictive laws on the maximum income for werewolves, and it was never _specifically_ stated as being illegal. The thing that couldn't be helped with resorting to Muggle methods was finding a girlfriend or wife ("or 'mate', as some like to call it," sneered Remus) – even a Muggle would notice it when you turned into a man-eating wolf every month. "But," as Remus had said, "you can't expect life as a werewolf to be all sunshine and roses," which had made Edward smile again.

All in all, Remus had had worse encounters with werewolves, and as he said goodbye to Edward when the man was released from St Mungo's, a week after Christmas, he was pretty confident that things were going to be alright, that Edward would be able to take care of himself and live a normal life – even if it was with added 'monthly problems'.

* * *

Large as number 12 Grimmauld Place's kitchen might be, fitting the entire Order of the Phoenix in there was quite a challenge. For every meeting, the table was pulled towards the wall and at least a dozen extra chairs had to be conjured to seat everybody. If everybody was present, it gave a feeling of sitting in a train or bus during rush hour.

Remus was sitting in the far back, as far away from the chatter and noise as possible. Sirius was sitting next to him, constantly balancing his chair on the two rear legs and then falling back again with a bang. Even though it annoyed Remus, he didn't say anything – Sirius was having one of his 'fits' again, as Molly called them, and he was very easy to anger during one of those. Sometimes, the too well-read, pseudo-psychologist part of Remus' brain wondered whether Sirius was perhaps being maniacally depressed, but he didn't dare suggest it, fearing he'd make his friend lash out at him. Remus tried to calm his worries by telling himself that Sirius was having a hard enough time as it was anyway without him adding more critique.

Sirius only stopped his rocking when Dumbledore got to his feet and opened the meeting, smiling benignly at the people in front of him, the perpetual twinkling in his eyes. Sirius didn't return the smile; instead, he frowned, never taking his eyes off Dumbledore as if he was dissatisfied about something and about to voice it too. Remus observed it worriedly.

Sirius didn't speak up until almost at the end. Molly had just told them all that Arthur was doing fine and that the Healers thought he would be able to leave St Mungo's in a few days. After everybody had voiced their happiness about this, Dumbledore asked them if anybody had something to say, and if not, he considered the meeting closed.

"I'd like to say something," said Sirius loudly, getting to his feet. People turned around to look at him. Dumbledore gave him a quizzical look.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You know, we've talked about Arthur," Sirius said forced-casually, "and about recruiting new people, and what Voldemort's up to, but I haven't heard anything about _Harry _yet."

"What do you mean?" said Dumbledore calmly.

Sirius had put his hands on the backrest of Hestia Jones' chair, who had been sitting in front of him. Hestia herself had scooted to the edge of her seat, as far away from Sirius as possible – he looked rather threatening with his eyes fixed on Dumbledore, and his gaunt, post-Azkaban look only added to it. "What I mean," he said. "Well, to put it politely, I don't care fuck-all squared in a _box_ about how many people Voldemort's killed this week or whatever. What _I _want to know is whether he's planning on possessing my Godson again and whether there are _any_ plans to prevent this!" His voice got louder and more urgent as he talked.

Silence followed his words. The eyes of the crowd shot from Sirius to Dumbledore, curious as to what their leader was going to say.

"I understand your concern," Dumbledore said, still calm and composed. "I'm working on it."

"Oh, that's great," Sirius said sarcastically. "Absolutely fantastic. That'll make us all sleep better, knowing that we don't need to worry about anything since you'll take care of everything. In fact, we don't even need to _think_ since you'll be taking care of _that _too!" He spread his arms dramatically. "In fact, why are we even here? What use is there, since you're deciding _everything _we do! This isn't a meeting, it's a reporting session, where we meekly tell our Great Leader what we've done. The _real_ decision aren't made by us, of course, we're only here to follow orders, to do as we're told." He put his hands back on Hestia's chair. "Perhaps you hadn't realised, but we're _persons_, not your henchmen whom you can make to do as you please."

"Of course I'm aware of that," Dumbledore cut in, for the first time showing a hint of annoyance. "The reason I'm not confiding everything to you, Sirius, is that secret plans have a way of reaching ears that should not be hearing those plans. I said I was _working_ on it. I do not decide everything by myself, and I certainly don't plan on becoming a dictator. That would lower me to the level of Lord Voldemort himself, and I for one don't want to stoop that low." He fixed Sirius' with his look. "Understood?"

Sirius tried to look back steadily, but found himself looking away after a few moments. "Good, as long as we got that clear," he told Dumbledore's beard.

"Good."

Sirius caught Snape's eye. The Potions Master was watching him with a superior smirk on his face, and it was as if he told him, jeering: _Dumbledore tells _me_ what he's up to… _Sirius almost opened his mouth to voice his suspicion, but controlled the urge, telling himself that it was just that: a suspicion. But he had to force himself to look away, lest he jump forward and wipe that smug look off Snape's face.

* * *

The urge to do something painful to Snape returned tenfold a few days later, on the Saturday before the children returned to Hogwarts, and this time he was on the brink of actually doing it.

The day began peaceful enough. Sirius had left Buckbeak's room in search of a cup of tea and maybe something to eat, which he found in the kitchen. Molly told him that the children were upstairs in Harry' and Ron's room, which suited Sirius just fine – surely Harry wouldn't want to spend the last day of his Christmas holidays with his sulking Godfather. Instead, Sirius talked with Molly, and even managed some small-talk and light conversation. Molly was in a good mood: Arthur would come home today, the Healers said he was completely cured. She was going to pick him up later.

She was just putting on her cloak when they heard the front door open and close softly.

"Are you expecting somebody?" she asked.

"No, not really. Must be somebody from the Order though. Maybe Remus's come home early." He'd certainly welcome that.

It wasn't Remus, unless Remus had developed a twisted sense of humour and taken Polyjuice potion that made him look like Snape.

"What are you doing here?" Sirius snarled.

"Trust me Black, I'd rather be somewhere else as well," Snape sneered back. As usual, he was completely clad in black, down to his gloves, which he was now pulling off his hands finger-by-finger in a rather threatening way. A bit of a shame of what looked like new and rather expensive gloves. "I'm here to speak to Potter."

"I'll get him," Molly said quickly, eager to escape them both. The kitchen, which moments before had been peaceful, was now filled with a hateful tension.

"Tell him I don't have much time," he said to her. He sat down opposite Sirius.

"Why do you want to talk to Harry?" Sirius said, his eyes narrowed.

Snape didn't answer. Instead, he took an envelope from his pocket and shoved it across the table, refusing to hand it to Sirius. Sirius took the envelope, tore the seal and took a piece of parchment from it. He frowned when he recognised Dumbledore's handwriting and even more so when he read what the Headmaster had to say. So much for telling plans: although he did apologise for pretty much giving orders, Dumbledore told him that he had decided that Harry was to learn Occlumency, starting coming Monday.

He looked up. "Do you know of this?" he asked, holding out the letter towards Snape. The other man smirked.

"Of course I do."

Harry entered the kitchen, making it impossible for Sirius to crumble the letter and stuff it in Snape's mouth or nose. But he wanted to, so much…

Harry eyed Snape with apprehension, which Sirius thought was completely justified.

"Er…" he said.

Snape looked around, the hateful smirk back on his face. "Sit down, Potter," he said.

"You know," said Sirius loudly to the ceiling, leaning back on his rear chair legs in a way he knew annoyed others so much, especially Remus. "I think I'd prefer it if you didn't give orders here, Snape. It's my house, you see." He couldn't see Snape's reaction to this, but he imagined the man to give him a foul look. He wasn't far off.

Harry sat down next to Sirius, still not saying anything but looking at Snape with a mixture of apprehension, curiosity and fear.

"I was supposed to see you alone, Potter," said Snape, the familiar sneer curling his mouth, "but Black –"

"I'm his godfather," said Sirius, still to the ceiling.

"I am here on Dumbledore's orders," said Snape in return. In reaction to Sirius' voice, which was getting louder and louder, Snape's voice was getting softer and silkier. "But by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel… involved."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Sirius, finally looking at Snape. He let his chair fall back with a bang. Snape smirked, in control again.

"Merely that I am sure you must feel – ah – frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing

_useful_," he said, "for the Order." His lip curled in a triumphant smile as Sirius shot a glare at him – he had hit him at the right spot. Having succeeded at that, he turned to Harry. "The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term," he announced.

"Study what?" said Harry blankly.

Snape smirk broadened slightly as if he had expected and was welcoming this opportunity to show his superiority. "Occlumency, Potter," he said. "The magical defence of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one."

Harry looked quickly from his Potions Master to his Godfather. "Why do I have to study Occlu— thing?" he asked.

"Because the Headmaster thinks it a good idea," said Snape, giving Sirius a look as though he wanted to add: _unlike some people_. "You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?"

"Yes," said Harry. "Who's going to be teaching me?"

Snape raised an eyebrow as if this was an impertinent question. "I am," he said.

This time, the look Sirius received from Harry was a definite panicked one. Sirius couldn't say he blamed the boy; it was a nasty surprise for him too.

"Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry?" he said aggressively. "Why you?"

"I suppose because it is a headmaster's privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks," said Snape coolly. "I assure you I did not beg for the job." He got to his feet, considering the conversation over. "I will expect you at six o'clock on Monday evening, Potter. My office. If anybody asks, you are taking remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them." He smirked at Harry, revelling in the opportunity to insult Harry. he turned to leave, but Sirius stopped him.

"Wait a moment," he said, sitting up straighter. Although he barely realised it, he mentally reminded himself that his wand was in his pocket, so easy to reach…

Snape turned around again to face Sirius. "I am in rather a hurry, Black," he sneered. "Unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time."

"I'll get to the point, then," said Sirius. He got up as well, looming over Snape, who had always been smaller and scrawnier, just like twenty years ago, when he and James had the Slytherin cornered, were jeering insults at him, when Snape had his eyes narrowed and his wand clutched in his hand, ready to throw a curse at them, just like now. "If I hear you're using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time," Sirius threatened, "you'll have me to answer to."

"How touching," Snape sneered. "But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?"

"Yes, I have," said Sirius, allowing himself a proud smile. If Snape had meant to insult Harry, it didn't work: having a resemblance to James was one of the biggest compliments one could pay him, in Sirius' opinion.

"Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," Snape continued sleekly. He smirked – he knew he had the upper hand in this, finally.

That did it, that smirk, the realisation that this _wasn't _like twenty years ago. Then, Sirius had been the one who laughed, who sneered and insulted while Snape was left in a defensive position. The position Sirius was now in. It infuriated him.

With one aggressive jerk, he pushed his chair out of his way, ignoring it as it clattered onto the floor. He stormed towards Snape, pulling his wand out of his pocket. Snape knew the signs, having seen them for years, and had his own ready.

Sirius held his wand close to Snape's face, threatening. Snape's eyes, narrowed in revulsion, darted from Sirius' face to the tip of his wand, but unlike years ago, there was no real fear in them.

"I've warned you, _Snivellus_," Sirius hissed, not even noticing he used the old nickname, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better –"

"Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take very seriously the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months?"

"Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days?" Sirius immediately hit back. "I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?"

"Speaking of dogs," Snape had his answer ready, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognised you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform…" he paused for a moment, ready for the kicker. "Gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?" Again that infuriating smile.

Sirius let out an angry roar and the hand holding his wand jerked towards Snape's face. He would have cursed the man into oblivion, but Harry interfered.

"NO!" he yelled, trying to get between them, to restrain them. "Sirius, don't!"

"Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius over Harry's head, still looking at the hated man opposite him.

"Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape mock-innocently as though he had just realised it himself. Harry was still trying to get Sirius to move back.

"Harry – get – out – of – it!" snarled Sirius, reaching out and pushing his Godson aside with his free hand. He wanted to kill Snape, he had been wanting it for such a long time and now was his chance –

But the kitchen door opened and the Weasleys walked in. They were all smiling broadly. Arthur stood in their midst, and he had just announced happily that he was completely cured when they all realised exactly what they were looking at. They froze.

"Merlin's beard," Arthur said, looking stunned. "What's going on here?"

Sirius and Snape both abruptly lowered their wands. Neither of them wanted to do something with so many witnesses, but the hatred was not forgotten. The looks they shot one another said as much.

Snape pocketed his wand and quickly walked towards the door. On the doorstep, he turned around: "Six o'clock, Monday evening, Potter." With that, he turned and left, leaving a very angry and frustrated Sirius to deal with the Weasleys.

"What's been going on?" Arthur repeated.

"Nothing, Arthur," said Sirius, forcing himself to get calm. "Just a friendly little chat between two old school friends." _I'll be damned before I call him my friend_. He told his mouth to smile. "So… you're cured? That's great news, really great."

"Yes, isn't it?" Molly seemed to have decided to ignore what had just happened. She lead her husband to a chair. "Healer Smethwyck worked his magic in the end, found an antidote to whatever that snake's got in its fangs, and Arthur's learned his lesson about dabbling in Muggle medicine, _haven't you_, dear?" she added sternly.

"Yes, Molly, dear," Arthur said meekly.

Sirius faked a laugh, just like he spend the rest of the afternoon and evening faking to be cheerful. But he couldn't forget Snape's face, nor his sneers, the snide remarks that Sirius had no use, that all he did was sit around and be a burden for the others. Even the stories from Mundungus Fletcher about his antics (which where cut short by Molly) couldn't lift his spirits. It was only when Kingsley Shacklebolt popped in for five minutes when he saw a ray of hope. When the Auror left again, he quickly followed him into the hall.

"Kingsley, wait."

Kingsley turned around. "What is it?" he asked softly.

"My possessions are stored at the Ministry, aren't they?" Sirius asked, coming directly to the point.

"Yes," Kingsley said simply.

"Listen, I want you to get me something…"

* * *

Tonks gave it to him the next day. "Kingsley asked me to give this to you," she gave as an explanation. She handed him a package the size of a small book, wrapped in brown paper. Sirius tore the paper off with his back towards Molly and Remus – he didn't want any comments. The package contained exactly what he had expected: the two-way mirror he and James had used back in their schooldays.

"Is that what you wanted?" Tonks asked.

"Yes, it's perfect." Sirius took one of the mirrors and pocketed it. With his back still to the others, he quickly took a pen from his pockets and scribbled a quick note on the back of the other mirror, explaining what it was and how it could be used. After that, he quickly wrapped it in the brown paper again. Just in time.

"Sirius, don't you want something to eat?" Remus asked. He had got to his feet, a worried frown on his face, trying to see what Sirius was up to.

"Yes, of course, who could resist Molly's breakfasts?" Sirius said, acting cheerfully. Molly smiled at the compliment he paid to her, lading his plate full with bacon and scrambled egg.

"Oh, I forgot to ask," Molly said as they had all sat down. "What did Snape have to tell Harry, yesterday?"

Remus looked up from his plate. "Snape was here yesterday?"

"Don't worry," said Sirius gruffly, "I kept him alive."

"Good thing too," Remus smiled. "I reckon a dead Snape will leave a terrible mess. All that grease…" This made Sirius look up in surprise. He had expected Remus to lecture him, not to joke about it.

"Of course. And I didn't want people to slip constantly, so I kept him alive _and_ reasonably intact too," he joked.

"If only everybody was as selfless as you…" sighed Tonks, joining the conversation.

"Can we get back to the subject?" asked Molly irritably.

"Which was?"

"Snape," said Remus.

"And his greasiness," added Sirius.

"And what a mess it leaves," came Remus.

"And how one has to consider that when planning to kill him," Sirius had his answer ready.

"What Snape had to say to Harry!" cut Molly in.

"Oh right," said Sirius as though he had just remembered it. "He said that Dumbledore, in all his wisdom, had decided that Harry was to study Occlumency."

"What's that?" asked Tonks.

"A way to shield your mind, to keep others from getting inside so to speak," came Remus' immediate answer.

"Why doesn't it bother me that you know it, but was I ready to strangle Snape when _he_ knew it?" wondered Sirius.

"Because you can't stand Snape knowing more than you do, but you're used to me spouting trivia and little bits of knowledge," said Remus wisely.

"Why does Dumbledore want Harry to study that?" Tonks returned to the subject at hand. "To prevent You-Know-Who from entering Harry's mind?"

"Of course," Sirius said. "Can't risk Voldemort getting in again and maybe even controlling him, sending him on a murderous killing spree or making him jump off the North Tower."

"That is not something to joke about, Sirius," Molly warned.

"Indeed." He shot her a foul look.

"Who'll be teaching Harry?" Remus asked.

"Snape," said Sirius, still glaring. "Harry, of course, is overjoyed and can't wait."

"Harry is lucky," Remus said. "Snape is an extremely good Occlumens – he'd have to be. If he wasn't, Voldemort would have killed him by now."

"But why wouldn't Dumbledore teach him?" Tonks asked. "I mean, if Snape can do it, I can't imagine Dumbledore not knowing how to do Occlumency."

"Snape said," Sirius sighed, "that Dumbledore, being the Headmaster, had the opportunity to give rotten jobs to other people. I don't know how to translate that to normal-people."

"If _I _were Dumbledore," came Arthur Weasley, "and I was suspecting my enemy of entering a boy's mind, I'd try and keep away from that boy in case that enemy _does _send that boy on – what was it – a murderous killing spree."

"So he's putting him in one room with Snape in case Harry goes on a murderous killing spree!" said Sirius. "See, now it all makes sense again."

Tonks was the only one who grinned.

"That doesn't sound too strange, actually," Remus said. "Not the murderous killing sprees, but that Dumbledore's afraid Voldemort's trying to control Harry, and avoids him because of that. I mean, if Voldemort – stop flinching Tonks, for Merlin's sake – can get into Harry's head, can he see through Harry's eyes as well? That would make a perfect spy."

Further discussion was cut off when the possibly-possessed boy and his friends entered the kitchen. Molly jumped up to make breakfast for them all, and pretty soon the kitchen was filled with the clatter of cutlery, people talking and Molly fussing about whether everybody had packed their socks.

Sirius took his opportunity when he saw Harry standing with his hands in his pockets, watching the people in front of him. He beckoned the boy closer.

"I want you to take this," he said when Harry came to stand next to him. He thrust the wrapped two-way mirror in Harry's hand.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"A way of letting me know if Snape's giving you a hard time," Sirius explained. "No, don't open it in here!" He nervously looked over his shoulder in case Molly was standing behind him, ready to reprimand him. "I doubt Molly would approve – but I want you to use it if you need me, all right?"

"OK," said Harry. He put the mirror in his inside pocket, then zipped his jacket shut.

"Let's go, then," said Sirius. He clapped Harry on the shoulder and smiled. This seemed to be a sign for all of them, because the others all followed the two of them upstairs into the hall.

Molly hugged Harry before the boy really knew what was happening. "Goodbye, Harry, take care." Arthur shook his hand, and asked him to look out for snakes, to which Harry shyly smiled.

"Right – yeah," he said. He turned to Sirius – but Sirius had expected this. Before his Godson could say anything to make this goodbye more painful, he took him into a kind of awkward, one-armed hug and said: "Look after yourself, Harry."

As if they had practised it, Remus then took Harry by the shoulder and gently pushed the boy outside. Sirius was the one who closed the door behind them, trying to etch that last look on his mind. He was going to have to do with it for several months.

Outside, Tonks was hurrying the children along. "Come on, the quicker we get on the bus the better," she said. She was disguised as an tall, elderly woman today, looking unnervingly like one of Remus' aunts. She made the children gather on the pavement. Remus took position on the kerb, then flung out his right hand.

BANG.

Only a moment later, a violently purple triple-decker bus appeared out of thin air. A lamppost hurriedly jumped out of the way, narrowly avoiding being run over.

A thin, pimply boy in a purple uniform, looking barely graduated from Hogwarts, got off the bus and began announcing that this was the Knight Bus –

"Yes, yes, we know, thank you," Tonks rudely interrupted. "On, on, get on –" She shooed the children on board, beginning with Harry.

"Ere – it's 'Arry –!" the purple-clad boy said.

"If you shout his name I will curse you into oblivion," Tonks threatened under her breath. The boy shut up.

Remus and Tonks quickly helped the others on board and hoisted the trunks on, then got on as well. Just like a Muggle bus, the Knight Bus had seats – but unlike a Muggle bus, the Knight Bus' seats were ordinary chairs, simply placed on the floor. Currently, about half of them were standing, the rest was lying on the floor, having toppled over from the abrupt stop. A few witches and wizards were getting up from the floor, muttering darkly – they had toppled over with the chair they had been sitting in.

"Looks like we'll have to split up," said Tonks, surveying the situation. 'Fred, George and Ginny, if you just take those seats at the back… Remus can stay with you."

Remus nodded and guided the three Weasleys to the back of the bus.

"Prepare yourself for a very rough ride," he said. Having learned from a previous ride on the Knight Bus, he carefully placed his chair next to one of the brass poles supporting the deck above him; in case of an abrupt stop, he would be able to hold onto that. At least, he hoped.

The twins didn't care about any of that – a rough ride was exactly what they were hoping for, so they deliberately set their chairs a little away from other objects. Ginny cleverly asked Remus to perform a sticking charm on her chair, which proved that women are smarter than men.

Off they went. The twins got exactly what they wanted – a very rough ride. Although Tonks had paid extra so they would be moved up the queue, there was one woman before them: a small woman who looked rather sick, so Remus could imagine why they let her off first. Especially when she vomited all over her chair, right above them.

"Eurgh," said Ginny, looking disgusted. Fred and George, however, looked decidedly interested and sorry they were sitting under the poor witch, not next to her.

The next stop was Hogsmeade. As soon as the sick witch had got off, the Knight Bus Apparated with a loud bang, and the snow-covered village of Hogsmeade appeared. It snowed heavily, and large flecks of snow hit the windows. The bus came to a halt right outside the gates of Hogwarts.

"Here we are," Remus said. "Time to get off."

"Pity," Fred said.

"Would've liked to stay on a bit longer," George agreed.

Alas, education beckoned, as did Remus for the boys to help him get the trunks off the bus. The others got down from the top deck and off the bus as well. They stood huddled together, shivering in the snow.

"You'll be safe once you're in the grounds," Tonks reassured them. She looked around carefully, checking if there wasn't anybody dangerous around. "Have a good term, OK?"

"Look after yourselves," Remus added. He shook hands with every one of them. He reached Harry last. Taking him aside a bit while the others said goodbye to Tonks, he said in an undertone: "and listen…Harry, I know you don't like Snape, but he is a superb Occlumens and we all – Sirius included – want you to learn to protect yourself, so work hard, all right?"

Harry looked up at him, green eyes bright in a face that was pale in the cold air. "Yeah, all right," he said, although it seemed with some difficulty. "See you, then."

Remus nodded and smiled reassuringly at him. "See you in a few months."

Tonks gave a last hug to Hermione and Ginny, then she and Remus helped the children on their way. They slowly walked towards the huge oak doors of Hogwarts, dragging their trunks in the snow. Tonks and Remus watched them until they were well on their way, then they got back on the Knight Bus again.

"Where d'you want to go?" the pimpled boy in the purple uniform said.

"London," Tonks said. "Ministry of Magic."

They sat themselves down, and the bus set off with a bang. In the short moment before they Apparated, Remus caught one glimpse of the children walking towards Hogwarts.

_Good luck, Harry_, he thought. _Good, good luck. _

* * *

**Author's note.**

**Not exactly sure why Sirius suddenly burst out at Dumbledore - it just happened. As I was writing it, it sounded like a good idea, but I'm not so sure of it now... It's odd though - when I'm writing Remus, it really feels like I'm Remus, and Sirius is genuinely annoying me. But when I'm writing Sirius, REMUS is annoying me! Stupid motherly guy... wink But honestly, that one remark "don't you want to eat something?" really bugged me for some reason. Decided to keep it in though, since it ís in character for Remus to worry and for Sirius to be annoyed about it!**


	16. Exposition

**I know, I know, the title's lame. "Exposition"? There ain't that much in here, actually. But I couldn't think of anything much better than that. My inspiration has left me for several weeks, and has only returned about a week ago, so if I want to finish this story before HBP comes out, I'm gonna have to rush it! Also one of the reasons why this chapter is so short - I can't affort to spend a lot of time writing huge chapters. But I hope you like this anyway!**

**

* * *

****January/February 1996.**

"HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN."

* * *

Harry was gone.

That was the thought that kept going through Sirius' head. _Harry has gone to Hogwarts, and it will be months before I see him again, and can talk to him and touch him and make him laugh. _He tried to think of something else; he even put the two-way mirror away in his room so as not to make the temptation too big. But every time he entered the kitchen, he couldn't help but notice that it was depressingly empty, that Harry wasn't there looking up expectantly to hear what his Godfather had come up with this time.

As what was starting to seem like the normal routine, the others had left him as well – now there weren't any children to take care of, Molly and Arthur were now only coming back to sleep. Same with Remus and Tonks: they would like to stay, as they explained to Sirius, but they couldn't neglect their work for the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius had put on a brave smile and said that of course, he understood and it didn't matter at all, it was for the greater good after all. But it was hard to maintain that attitude when the last one closed the door behind him, leaving Sirius with only a hippogriff and a deranged house-elf for company.

Although… 'Deranged' didn't quite seem to cover it anymore. Ever since Kreacher had been discovered in the attic, after his disappearance over the Christmas holidays, he had been strangely submissive, obeying Sirius' commands. That in itself wasn't so strange: being a house-elf, he had no choice but to obey. What _was _strange was that he did it all quietly, without the usual dark mutterings about blood-traitors and the like. It was unnerving, and Sirius didn't know what to make of it.

* * *

There is a saying that misfortunes never come singly, and indeed there are times when the entire world just seems to conspire to make life as miserable as possible.

It started off fairly innocently and unimportantly except for the people directly involved: Broderick Bode died under suspicious circumstances. This earned him a small article on page ten of the _Daily Prophet_, which went unread by most people except a few: Bode's family and the members of the Order of the Phoenix.

The reason for the sudden anxiety Bodes death caused was his occupation. Broderick Bode used to work as an Unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries until a few weeks ago, when he had been attacked. Nobody knew who had done that first attack or who had staged Bode's death, but as Moody had elegantly put it: the whole deal stank of dark wizards. It was not unlikely that one or more Death Eaters had attacked Bode to either get into the Department of Mysteries or interrogate the Unspeakable to find out how to get in. When Bode refused to speak, he was so injured that he had to be taken to St Mungo's. When he showed signs of recovery, he was no doubt regarded as too dangerous to live, so somebody send a cutting of Devil's Snare to finish the job. A quiet operation that barely got attention from the rest of the world.

Not that it was hard to understand that the rest of the world had something else to worry about, something that would not be put as far back as page ten of the newspapers for a long time: on the same day Broderick Bode died, ten Death Eaters managed to escape Azkaban.

As had happened before, Kingsley Shacklebolt was again the bearer of the bad tidings. He had been working late at the Auror's Headquarters, and thus he had heard of the break-out a half-our after it had happened – and yet he was still one of the first who heard. He immediately send a message to the Order of the Phoenix.

Every detail of the out-break suggested a meticulous planning, from the careful elimination of the guards – and thus a quick warning that something was wrong at Azkaban – to the fact that it were the ten most dangerous Death Eaters who had escaped. The wizard prison had never been exactly crowded anyway, save for the time when Voldemort had just been defeated and his followers were being arrested, but with these ten Death Eaters gone, the only prisoners left were a few 'normal' criminals and a handful of Death Eaters who had never managed to get into Voldemort's inner circle. In one clever move, Voldemort's army had got his heart back; the Dark Lord had his most devoted followers at his side again, this time even more eager to kill as many as they could, to take revenge for the time they had spend in prison. You'd almost had to compliment them for the decision to kill Bode at the same time, so that nobody would notice it. Voldemort could hardly be accused of stupidity.

"The horrible thing is, of course," Remus pretty much summarised, "that nobody but us believes Voldemort's really back, so the rest of the world thinks those escaped Death Eaters are… well, having tea parties or something instead of plotting the end of the world."

"Tea parties at my house, no less," said Sirius sourly.

The two of them were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a last bottle of Butterbeer before going to bed. Tonks was sitting next to Remus, sleepily resting her head on her arms and turning her Butterbeer bottle around in a dreamy sort of way. On the other side of the table, Moody and Kingsley were discussing the plans made in the meeting of the Order that had been held that evening.

"You could do that, you know," Tonks now said to Sirius, raising her head, "holding a tea party, I mean. And then just poison everybody, and you'd be the hero of the day."

"Except that nobody of the Death Eaters would show up unarmed, and if I announce that I killed them all, nobody of the Ministry would show up unarmed either, because surely the only way I would have been able to kill so many Death Eaters at once would be dark magic. Which, as you recall, I've apparently used before." Sirius' voice was not free of sarcasm as he said this.

"Well, Kingsley and I would," Tonks tried. But it was too late – Sirius had already given in to one of his moody fits, and was brooding about how universally disliked he was.

"How'd your mum react to the news anyway?" Remus asked Tonks, steering the conversation in another direction and hoping to distract Sirius with it.

"Not sure actually. She doesn't really talk about it – which makes me think that it's upset her a lot, because that's the way she goes when something's troubling her."

"Pretending it hasn't happened."

"Yeah, that's a way to put it."

Kingsley and Moody had put away the parchment scrolls they had been working with, and had taken something to drink as well. They both did an admirable job of ignoring Sirius' chagrined face.

"You managed to draw up new schedules?" Remus asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry to say that guard duty will be doubled, but it seems necessary," Kingsley said calmly.

Tonks groaned. "As if I hadn't had enough to do."

"It's for a good cause," Remus said fairly. "And we're all doing our share."

"I know, Remus." She smiled at him. "I know."

"Let's just hope Potter is doing his share as well," Moody said gruffly, taking his hipflask instead of a bottle of Butterbeer, "and learns Occlumency quickly."

"I'm sure he'll do fine." Remus the optimist, as always.

They sat in silence for a few moments, thinking about the latest developments and how they could prevent them from getting worse. Tonks was the one who broke the silence.

"You know what I was wondering?"

"No," Kingsley said simply.

"I was wondering exactly what's in the Department of Mysteries. I've been guarding it hundreds of times, it seems, but I have no idea what's inside, except the place where the Wizengamot sometimes holds trials. And the Unspeakables won't, um, speak either."

"Nobody told you what's inside?" Remus asked.

"I wouldn't be asking it if someone did, would I?"

Moody stretched out his wooden leg, letting it hit the floor with a clunk. He sighed, but smiled nonetheless. However, with his facial features, it came across as rather threatening. "Inside the Department of Mysteries," he said, "are the wonders of the world."

"What, the pyramids?"

Those three words managed what Remus had often tried in vain: Sirius smiled and seemed to forget his bad mood. Moody, however, wasn't as amused, and he gave Tonks a foul glare that was even more unnerving because of his fake eye.

"No," he said, "not the pyramids. I meant time, the human mind, the universe, the future, death."

"Death? Time? How can you keep that in a room? You might as well put the pyramids in there, they'd take less space."

"Surprisingly enough," he said somewhat dryly, "it's the other way around. I'd say that the entire Department of Mysteries takes as much space as one pyramid."

"And what are they doing with it? Just keeping it in a room?"

"No, of course not. The people we call Unspeakables study that which is still a mystery to us all – hence the name, the Department of Mysteries. The goal is to come to an understanding of how time, death, the human mind and memory and so forth, work."

"And then?" Tonks persisted. "Still keep it in a box? Or keep it in a box and try and control it?"

"I suppose so," Moody said, waving his hand as if he wasn't exactly sure either. "Of course, one has to wonder whether we can really control such things."

"Voldemort'd want it, though," Sirius said abruptly. "He's been trying to control death for decades."

"And that'd make another reason for him to get into the Department," Remus added. This sudden realisation was kind of a shock to them all. They knew Voldemort wanted to get in to get to the Prophecy, but they hadn't realised just how much of interest – of an asset even – the Department of Mysteries could be to him.

"We must be on our guard," Kingsley said eventually, "and hope that the Ministry soon realises You-Know-Who has returned."

"Which they won't believe," Sirius said.

"Then let's hope that they'll get proof soon."

They looked at one another, worried. What Kingsley hoped was something they all hoped – and dreaded at the same time. Because the only proof the Ministry would accept was when Voldemort went out in the open again, and then there'd be no other choice but a full-scale war until one of either sides was wiped out. It was a scenario the entire Order was hoping wouldn't come for quite some time.

* * *

In February, however, Harry appeared to have decided to take matters in his own hands, and again the members of the Order of the Phoenix weren't sure whether this was a good or a bad thing. Without any warning or even any small hints, Harry pushed Voldemort's return under the Ministry of Magic's nose, leaving them to deal with it.

"You have to admire the kid's courage," Sirius said proudly as he leafed through _The Quibbler_ for the twelfth time, ready to reread the interview Harry had given to Rita Skeeter. The article gave every detail of what had happened last June and what Harry had seen when he had witnessed Voldemort come back to his old power, which the headline and the cover proudly proclaimed.

"Or the editor's," Remus muttered.

"I think I'll forgive him for writing that I was a famous singer," Sirius said.

"Which you thought a brilliant joke anyway."

"Don't spoil the mood, Moony."

Remus said nothing – thus actually in effect doing as he was told – although he did want to say something, quite a lot in fact. He wasn't at all sure whether this had been such a smart move on Harry's part. The boy hadn't been very popular at the Ministry of Magic in the past few months, and this openly defying pretty much the highest power in the wizarding world wasn't likely to do much to improve it. Also, Minerva McGonagall had reported that Dolores Umbridge wasn't overly fond of Harry either, to put it mildly, and the interview would only make her more eager to somehow teach him a lesson.

He did not mention his doubts to Sirius, however. He had begun to notice in the past few weeks that to his friend, everything Harry did was ultimate good, and everything the Ministry of Magic did was pure evil, with Voldemort and his followers only being slightly more horrible. Sirius wasn't one to forget others wrongdoing quickly, let alone forgive them, and being locked up for months had given him more than enough opportunities to let his resentment develop into a full-blown hate. Even the slightest mention of Harry (or, given the way Sirius seemed to think: Sirius' side) being somehow wrong, was likely to tick Sirius off. He was in fact getting scarily close to developing an "if you're not with me, you're against me"-mentality, and Remus wasn't at all sure what he feared the most: Voldemort coming back to full power of Sirius finally snapping under the strain and completely losing it.


	17. Changes at Hogwarts

**March/April 1996.**

_"By order of the Ministry of Magic: Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The above is in accordance with Educational Degree Number Twenty-eight."_

* * *

What with all these dark wizards running around killing people and trying to take over the world, one would almost forget that at the same time, the Ministry of Magic was trying to take over the largest (and only, for that matter) magical school in Great-Britain.

They went about it fairly quietly, to be honest. Umbridge being appointed High Inquisitor had reached the newspapers, but as the only ones directly afflicted were the teachers and students at Hogwarts, and as she seemed to do nothing much worse than inspect the teachers, the rest of the country had shrugged it off as nothing more than a Ministry employee having made a new step in her career, and they had quickly forgotten about it. Not the Hogwarts staff, however. Umbridge was an everyday reality for them, and her putting professor Trelawney on probation (a power she had as High Inquisitor) hinted at things to come.

Umbridge took her time. Sybill Trelawney was put on probation in October, a few weeks after the High Inquisitor had inspected her class, and then, mysteriously, virtually ignored her for months. Hagrid was put on probation in January, but that too didn't seem to be followed by anything more severe. Umbridge seemed to be biding her time, but for what? It puzzled everyone involved until, in March, she made her first, unsuspected move: she fired Trelawney and ordered her off the Hogwarts grounds.

"Of course, in hindsight, it was only too obvious that Sybill was the first to go," said professor McGonagall bitterly that same evening, as she recounted the events to the Weasleys, Remus, Sirius, Kingsley and Tonks. "Excuse my language, but there was – in my opinion – no denying that she did not have the Sight, as illustrious as her great-great-grandmother may have been, and despite her two real predictions." This last comment was a reluctant nod to Dumbledore, who was sitting at the kitchen table. He didn't react – he seemed to be lost in thoughts.

Dumbledore had spoken very little the last few hours. He was still trying to figure out how to continue his plans after these sudden changes, although he would never confess it. Nobody would know how he was struggling to take care of several things at once, like some mad balancing act. He was of the opinion that they didn't need to know. It would only add extra worries to the ones they already had. Things were still working out so far, and so he almost recklessly went on, depending on his skill at improvising, his quick thinking and his almost unbelievable luck. When he had gone to the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest, that afternoon, he had had no idea of Umbridge's plans. He had been lucky that it had been that day that Firenze decided that his position in the herd was untenable and that he'd better seek shelter at Hogwarts – ironically enough, he had been kicked out of the herd exactly because he had agreed to work for Dumbledore. They had never exactly specified what his work for Dumbledore was going to be, but Firenze hadn't hesitated when the Headmaster had asked him to teach Divination. Dumbledore was well aware that this move would not make him popular with the Ministry, but he resolved to worry about that later. Right now he should be grateful that Sybill Trelawney was still at Hogwarts, kept away and well guarded from any Death Eater who would get the unholy idea to kidnap her, to hear the entire prophecy concerning Voldemort and Harry Potter.

"The question is now," Remus continued the conversation, wisely avoiding the matter of whether Trelawney was a true Seer or a true fraud, because if they began discussing that it would only end in arguments, "what Umbridge is going to do next."

"Or which teacher she's going to sack next," Tonks added helpfully.

"To put it very bluntly, yes."

"The next ones to go are obviously those that don't agree with _the Ministry's_ ideas," said McGonagall. "In other words, me, Filius, Severus –"

"They wouldn't sack you," Remus said before he could check himself. "You're too good a teacher."

She gave him a look that quite obviously said 'you're licking my boots now, and we both know it. It doesn't suit you'. He shut up, but only because she wanted him to – he still thought her one of the best teachers he'd ever had.

"If disagreeing with the Ministry's ideas is a reason to sack you," came Arthur Weasley quietly, "then what are the odds of replacing the Headmaster?"

This remark was followed by a shocked silence, as everybody thought about this. Remarkably enough (or not, given the person), Dumbledore was the only one who seemed to stay calm, almost indifferent. It was a scenario he considered to be practically a given: sooner or later Cornelius Fudge would think him too much of a nuisance, and replace him with someone more to his liking. The only thing he wondered was when it would happen.

"Fudge can't just switch Headmasters," said Kingsley Shacklebolt eventually. "Not right now, anyway. This sudden change of staff will be too abrupt a change, and he can't risk suddenly turning the entire school upside down." The way he said this, calmly, with his deep voice, was comforting to all.

"Exactly," Dumbledore said, voicing a conviction he did not feel. "Cornelius cannot risk loosing too much stability, especially not now, what with the wizarding world getting more convinced that Voldemort has returned. He will lie low for now."

_For now,_ he thought, as he watched the others smile in relief: if Dumbledore said it, it must be true. _But it will be only a matter of weeks. _

* * *

It was about four weeks later.

The Aurors at the Headquarters – who were almost always working late – had developed a habit of appointing one of them to order take-away for them all, instead of all going at different times. The Muggles catering to them all wondered why such a huge group of people were ordering so frequently, but they weren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth and put themselves out of business, so they stacked huge amounts of plastic bags and were always prepared for a large order around seven o'clock. They also made a habit of ignoring the fact that one or two bags always seemed to sort of float next to the person ordering, instead of being carried.

Back at the Ministry, it was simply a matter of shouting loudly who ordered what, and giving the right package of food to the right person. Distributing food like that wasn't perhaps very orderly, but hardly anything at the Ministry was, and it gave a sort of festive feel to the whole thing.

The same routine was followed on the evening of the fifth of April. They had decided on Chinese take-away for tonight, and so Kingsley sat at his desk, eating rather soggy noodles with a little plastic fork. He much preferred eating at home, eating food he'd cooked himself with proper utensils.

As he ladled his stringy dinner unceremoniously into his mouth, he once again studied the photos on the walls around him, as he had done so often before. Finding Sirius Black – or, rather, not finding him – was getting harder and harder. The longer he kept this charade up, the closer he was getting to being found out. Evidence was getting harder to make up, and the imaginary Sirius couldn't keep moving from country to country, forever only just escaping capture. Real-life Sirius wasn't helping much either: the last few times Kingsley had asked where he was to send the fugitive next, he had got an disinterested "where-ever you please" for an answer.

As the Auror looked at the pictures before him, he pondered the drama almost playing out in front of him. A group of friends that had been so tight-knit, two of which would literally give their lives for one another, one who'd found his only friends in the other three. Then there were of course Harry and Lily Potter – the former of which might be said to be the centre of it all. But the truly elusive figure, the one whom Kingsley thought to be the key to understanding the complete mystery, was the one who would end up betraying them all: exactly the one who featured the least on all the photos pinned on the walls. Peter Pettigrew was almost always barely visible on the photos, if he was there at all. He was the small, somewhat skinny boy with the thin, mouse-coloured hair on the classpictures, the one sitting as close to James as Sirius would allow it; he was the pale or sunburned boy who, on the beach with his three friends, would sit hidden in the shadow of the parasol, barely visible, while the others were sitting in the full glare of the sun; Pettigrew was the one conspicuously absent on the photos made after the Marauders had left Hogwarts – he was there at the grouppicture made at the Potter's wedding, the mousy boy having grown into a pale, mousy young man; and finally, there was one picture of him standing, nervously and slightly embarrassedly, next to underwhelmed Remus and an exuberant Sirius who was holding an infant Harry as if there was nothing more precious in the entire world. After that, Pettigrew had literally disappeared.

Kingsley's thoughts were interrupted by a short, polite knock on the wall of his cubicle. He turned around and saw one of his colleagues, Dawlis, smiling somewhat sheepishly at him.

"Fudge wants to see us," he said.

"Why?" Kingsley asked, putting his dinner down and getting to his feet.

"He didn't explain," Dawlish said. "Probably something the rest doesn't need to know."

The two Aurors thus walked out of the maze of cubicles that was the Auror Headquarters, past the elevators and down a hallway until they reached a spacious office: the Minister for Magic's own office. Being the most important man in the British magical world, Fudge had the biggest office in the building. No cramped room for him: his desk was big and Kingsley could actually see that the wood was polished because the tabletop wasn't covered with papers, unlike his own desk. Of course Fudge had windows, rather large ones too, which at the moment showed the sun setting. Portraits and pictures of his family and himself adorned the wall, and instead of a filing cabinet Fudge had an actual bookcase in his office. Intricate magical objects were placed here and there in the office, although Kingsley suspected that most of them were more for show than for actual use. After all, Fudge had an image to uphold.

The Minister himself was sitting after at his desk, writing something on a sheet of parchment but looking up when Kingsley and Dawlish entered the room. He got up, clearly enthusiastic to see them.

"Ah, there you are," he said. He gestured towards the door. "Please, close the door." As Dawlish did so, Fudge took the sheet of parchment he had been writing on.

"Well, gentlemen," he said, "it turns out that tonight, we received very interesting information indeed."

He fell silent for a moment, to allow Kingsley or Dawlish to react, but they said nothing, waiting for Fudge to continue. After a few moments, he did.

"You are of course aware that the situation at Hogwarts has been… worrying of late. Dear Dolores Umbridge was trying her best to manage things, but she reports that the staff has been reluctant at best, and the students not much better. It seemed like they were being incited by Harry Potter, who kept spreading nonsense about You-Know-Who having returned – well, you must have heard. The situation is quickly becoming unmanageable. Tonight, however, we're going to put an end to it all by removing Potter from Hogwarts."

"We're going to arrest him?" Kingsley said, sounding calmly but inwardly deeply worried. _Harry_ being kicked out of Hogwarts was something nobody had really anticipated. "What for?"

Fudge waved the sheet of parchment. "It turns out that Potter has been violating Educational Degree Number Twenty-four, and not just once, but several times." He nearly bounced with glee. "As you may recall, that particular Degree prohibited the formation of any club, society or organisation that was not first approved by the High Inquisitor. That included Quidditch teams, Gobstones clubs, chess clubs – you know, the regular school activities. Most of them were eventually approved again by Dolores, except for one, that Potter conveniently didn't ask permission for."

"What kind of group?" Kingsley asked, getting annoyed with Fudge's habit of beating around the bush. Get to the point already.

"An association that secretly practised to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts," Fudge said. "They met every week or so to actively learn how to stun people and do all kinds of dangerous things expressly forbidden by Ministry rules."

"Do you have evidence for that?" Dawlish asked. Kingsley was glad his colleague asked it – showing too much interest in Potter's doing would get suspicious.

"I have a letter, here – " Fudge took another, light pink, sheet of parchment from his desk, "– from Dolores. Apparently one of the students who attended the meetings was so wise to realise that what they were doing was illegal, and she reported it to Dolores. Dolores of course immediately wrote to me. Potter and his group were to meet again this evening, but they will get a nasty surprise indeed." Fudge laughed nastily. "Potter, of course, as the leader of the group, will have no choice but to leave the school. It was about time he learned that his ways of acting are not appreciated. Dumbledore may give in constantly, but Potter should learn that is not the way the world works. It's time to grow up. Ah, Weasley!"

Kingsley turned around rather sharply. The Weasley that came in, however, was not Arthur nor Bill. It was a redhead for sure, build stocky like the twins and Molly and with glasses on his nose like Arthur, but apart from that he stood out from the rest of his family. His robes were neatly ironed – there were streaks in them even after a day of working –, he seemed to have a constant frown on his face, and he was in absolute adoration of Fudge. Kingsley was sure that this was Percy, the only Weasley who had not chosen Dumbledore's side.

"Minister," he said pompously, "I have the requested parchment, ink and quill. Miss Umbridge has written back that she expects us. I think we're ready to go."

"Very good, Weasley!" Fudge nearly bounced. "Ready, Shacklebolt? Dawlish?"

Dawlish nodded, but Kingsley excused himself, saying that he needed to get his cloak first. He got out of the office, then hurried back to his cubicle as fast as he could without raising suspicion. This was far worse than any of them could have expected. They had been sure that the Ministry's aim had been to get rid of the teachers, the adults with real power to act against them. Harry had seemed like not much of a threat, especially since so few people seemed to believe him – before the interview anyway. And now Fudge was going to Hogwarts _personally_ to arrest Potter. This wasn't just some annoyance, this was dead serious.

He arrived at his cubicle and quickly fled into it. The most important question now was: how to contact Dumbledore without anyone noticing? The Order did have a way of contacting one another, but it was done with a spell, and that was fairly suspicious, especially in the middle of the Ministry of Magic, when one only had a few seconds to spare.

Fortunately, the answer walked into his cubicle.

"Kingsley, here're the reports you asked for," Tonks said, holding the sheets of parchment out to him. "It's getting late, I'm going ho–" She abruptly held her tongue because he clamped a hand over her mouth. She stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Quiet," he said softly. "Emergency. Fudge is going to Hogwarts to arrest Harry. I have to come with him. Alert someone when you're outside. Hurry." He let go of her and he said, continuing in a normal tone so that the Aurors in the cubicles next to him wouldn't get suspicious: "thanks a lot Tonks, I needed those. I'll look into them tomorrow."

She still looked a little shocked, but recovered quickly – she wasn't an Auror for nothing. "Of course," she said. "It's getting too late to continue working anyway. I'll see you tomorrow!" She waved at him, nodding clearly to show him she had understood him. They left the cubicle together, parting at the elevators. The last thing Kingsley saw of Tonks was her frantically pushing the buttons of the elevator, trying to force it to come quicker. He himself walked as slowly as he could, deliberately trying to give Tonks as much time as possible. If only Dumbledore knew what was coming – he'd surely find a way to let Harry stay at Hogwarts…

* * *

Unlike her boss, Tonks wasn't one to waste much time delivering a message. In fact, she could be considered a little too abrupt.

"Fudge is going to Hogwarts to kick Harry out," she blurted out as she rushed into the kitchen at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Her audience reacted as expected.

Sirius swore loudly and jumped to his feet, unable to remain seated. Molly let out a loud gasp of surprise, and Arthur abruptly put his goblet down, almost toppling it over.

"Why?" Sirius barked at Tonks. Even though she was a dearly loved relative, everything had to step aside when Harry was at danger.

"I don't know – " Tonks began.

"How can you know _who_ is going to do _what_ and _where_ he's going to do it, but not know _why_?" he demanded. "Who told you this anyway?"

"Kingsley did," she explained. "Fudge has ordered him and Dawlish – another Auror – to come with him to Hogwarts. Kingsley asked me to alarm the rest of the Order."

"Does Dumbledore know this already?" Arthur asked, a worried frown on his face.

"I alerted him as soon as I was out of the Ministry," she assured him. "Which was about fifteen minutes ago."

Sirius growled with frustration and began pacing through the kitchen. "What," he said hotly, "could Harry possibly have done wrong to be arrested by the fucking Minister and two Aurors? At night even!"

None of the three others was stupid enough to actually react to this, but Sirius didn't need someone to talk to – he could rant to himself perfectly fine. As he kept pacing through the kitchen, muttering darkly and making threatening gestures with his hands, Tonks took off her cloak and sat down. There wasn't much else she could do at the moment anyway.

"Where's Remus?" she asked. It was a bit strange to see a stressed-out Sirius without Remus to calm him down.

"Not up to company," Arthur told her. "Full moon tonight."

"Right." She reached for the can of pumpkin juice on the table. "At least we're not the only ones not having fun."

Sadly, this attempt to lighten the atmosphere didn't work. None of the others present reacted to it. Sirius remained pacing, and the Weasleys and Tonks listened to the sound of his footsteps and of the clock ticking.

Sirius felt even more frustrated than he had done when Harry was to go into the maze, at the third and last task of the Triwizard Tournament. Now, just like then, he could do nothing to help his Godson, but this time there was much more at stake than simply winning an international competition. Even more frustrating was that he had no idea why Harry was going to be expelled. It had most likely something to do with that interview he had given two months ago, but Sirius couldn't imagine that being reason enough to expel someone. Although, knowing Fudge, he'd probably twist it into Harry disrespecting the Minister's authority or something ridiculous like that.

It was not even midnight, although it seemed much later, that the fire in the hearth abruptly turned green, startling the four of them. A tall, thin figure appeared in it, spinning round. Once his stopped spinning, Albus Dumbledore climbed out of the hearth and calmly dusted the soot off his robes. Then he looked up.

"Good evening."

"Where is Harry?" Sirius snapped, not caring about greetings or such niceties. To him, the evening was far from good.

"Still at Hogwarts," Dumbledore reassured him. "Save and sound." This drew a sigh of relief from the others present. Sirius, however, would not rest until he had heard every last detail.

"Why did Fudge come to Hogwarts?" he asked, urgently. Dumbledore looked at him, then at Tonks, quickly connecting and understanding.

"I see miss Tonks told you," he said, more a statement than a question. "Cornelius found out about a secret organisation Harry had founded, and saw this as a valid reason to expel the boy."

"What kind of organisation was that?" Molly asked, horrified that Harry would do such a dangerous thing.

"A society that practised Defence Against the Dark Arts, exactly in the way the Ministry does not want the subject to be learned. As I understood it, Harry was the founder and the teacher." Dumbledore's eyes went from Molly to Sirius as he spoke. The dark-haired man looked back defiantly.

_Yes, I knew_, he thought rebelliously. _So what? _

"How did he found out?" Arthur asked.

"Apparently one of the members decided to snitch. Marrietta Edgecombe – her mother works at the Ministry?"

"If she does, I don't think I've ever met her," Arthur said pensively.

"That does not matter much," Dumbledore went on. "Miss Edgecombe reported to Dolores Umbridge, who alerted Cornelius. Cornelius thought it necessary to take two Aurors with him. Fortunately for us, one of those was Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"So, fortunately for us means that everything is okay again?" Tonks asked, just to be sure. "Everything is as it was?"

"Not quite," Dumbledore said calmly. "Not quite, I'm afraid. To ensure Harry's stay at Hogwarts, I had to give up my position as Headmaster."

His listeners did not take to the news as calmly as it was brought. Arthur jumped to his feet in shock, Molly clapped a hand before her mouth, and there was a simultaneous outcry of "what!"

"It was necessary," Dumbledore continued. "Cornelius would not have been satisfied until one of us – Harry or me – had left Hogwarts. I decided that me leaving would be less dangerous than Harry being expelled. Cornelius, of course, seemed to like my resigning even better than Harry's, especially after he discovered how Harry had named his illegal group."

"How?" Sirius wanted to know.

"Dumbledore's Army," Dumbledore said. "Not Potter's Army, or something like that, but Dumbledore's Army. _My_ army. This seemed to confirm Cornelius' worst fear, that I was trying to overthrow him and take over the Ministry myself. So he ordered the two Aurors he had brought with him, to arrest me. That was something I thought rather unnecessary and a waste of time, so I was forced to knock them out for a moment. With the help of Fawkes, I Apparated to Aberforth, who offered me help and shelter, which I gladly accepted. I then decided to come here, to explain all that happened, and so I did."

Silence. The story Dumbledore had just told them was so surprising and worrying that it took the four others a few moments to let it all sink in. Eventually, Arthur asked: "and who's Headmaster now?"

"I do not know," Dumbledore admitted, "but I wouldn't be surprised if Cornelius decides that Dolores Umbridge is the right woman for the job. He will certainly not allow Minerva to take my place. She has shown too often how loyal she is to me and how much she dislikes Dolores and Cornelius. Tonight she even offered to fight the them, Kingsley and Dawlish alongside with me. Neither Cornelius nor Dolores will forgive her that."

Another moment of silence. Each of them thought about what would happen if Dolores Umbridge took over Hogwarts. None of the possible outcomes sounded very good.

"And what are you going to do in the meantime?" Sirius asked eventually. "Stay here at Grimmauld Place?" Sharing his house with Dumbledore wasn't really something he looked forward to.

"No. I intend to stay at Aberforth's. It's close enough to Hogwarts that I can keep an eye on what's going on, and Cornelius will never suspect me staying there, in a pub at Hogsmeade. I trust I'm quite safe there." Dumbledore smiled at the people before him. "Really, it's actually much easier for me that Dolores is taking over my job. I now at least don't have to worry about the school too. It's quite an fortunate change, actually."

But of course it wasn't, and he probably knew that more than anyone. He could now no longer keep a direct eye on the proceedings at Hogwarts, he had no influence there anymore. The Ministry had free reign, they could do as they pleased. And with the Headmaster gone, nothing stopped them from making even more changes.

Tonight had been only the beginning.


	18. Quarrels about the past

**Next chapter! **

**I turned the rating up a bit - I figured that after this one, there'd be too many f-words to allow a PG-13 rating... I also found out that my cursing vocabulary is a bit limited! Maybe that's because English is not my native language, and curses aren't exactly the words you learn at school. ;) **

**Interesting tidbit: apparently Dutch is the only language that uses diseases as curse-words! Typhus, cholera, pox, cancer - cancer is even a verb: if someone is whining or complaining about something, we Dutch say he's 'cancering' about it (of course, it's not something the Queen would use in public!). When it's really bad weather, it's not unusual to hear someone say it's "poxweather". It's apparently something that we're unique in saying... funny, that...**

**Anyway. Onto the chapter!**

* * *

**May 1996.**

_"Of course James was a bit of an idiot!" said Sirius bracingly, "we were all idiots! Well – not Moony so much."_

"_Did I ever tell you to lay off Snape? Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?"_

* * *

"You know, every time I'm standing in the elevator with you two, I get this feeling like I'm really cool, that I know two Aurors and am allowed to stand next to them." Remus pretended to shiver with excitement.

"Or we could turn it around and say that every time you're standing in the elevator with us, it makes you feel as if you're about to be led up to the Headquarters for interrogation," Tonks said. "Makes you feel less cool, doesn't it?"

"Decidedly. I like my version better, actually."

"Well, since we Aurors _are_ the height of cool anyway, we'll be so generous as to let you mere mortal share our coolness." Tonks said this with an air of self-importance. Remus immediately mimicked grovelling, all the while muttering "I'm not worthy."

"Sometimes," Kingsley said darkly, "I'm ashamed that I know you two."

"Aww, Kingsley, don't be such a grumpy-man," Tonks said. "Yes, I know that's not a word. We were just fooling around."

"We can't risk fooling around," Kingsley bit. "Are you at all aware of the situation we're in? Do you know that we're playing a dangerous double role? It's madness. I've had to pretend to be searching for Sirius Black for months now, and now we're looking for Dumbledore as well, another escaped person of who we know perfectly well where he is, but we have to act as if we're completely oblivious! If this comes out, we're royally…"

"Screwed?" suggested Tonks helpfully.

"Fired, at the least." He glared at her and Remus.

"We understand what you mean," Remus said softly, seriously this time. "We do remember all those things. Like Tonks said, we were fooling around, but we wouldn't make fun of the… situations we're now in."

"Absolutely not," added Tonks. "We do appreciate what you're doing. We love you. Every night we go to sleep wishing that we were more like you, and – sorry, this is my regular tone!" she finished apologetically, because Kingsley was once again looking daggers at her. "I can't talk in any other way!"

"Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office and Pest Advisory Bureau." The cool, female voice that made all announcements in the Ministry of Magic interrupted their conversation.

"Sorry, that's my level," Remus said. He looked at Tonks. "No, I do not have an entire level of the Ministry of Magic for myself alone. I meant that this is the level at which I meant to get off the elevator."

"I wasn't even going to say anything!" she protested.

"Sorry," he apologised. "But having spend so much time with Sirius makes you anticipate things being taken literally. And you sometimes do it too, you know." He winked at her. "It's kind of like… Black humour." He winced. "Terrible pun."

"Ah, no, Black humour would be when one of us died and someone, preferably from the Black family, joked about it," Tonks said. "But this _is_ your own personal level, so get off." The golden grille had already opened, so Remus stepped out. He waved at the two Aurors when the grille slid back and the elevator ascended, out of sight. He then turned to his left and walked towards the Beast Division, where the Werewolf Registry was located.

He hadn't been here for quite some time, having been very busy with his Order-related work, but he noticed immediately that nothing much had changed. There was still a long queue of people standing in front of the welcome-desk at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical creatures, the noise of the animals various witches and wizards had brought with them was still deafening, and as Remus nearly broke his neck over a Kneazle that had broken free, he realised that even the inability to keep pets in check had not changed.

He ignored the queue and immediately walked on to the Headquarters of the Werewolf Capture Unit. He knocked shortly before entering. As he had hoped, the person he was looking for was inside.

Romulus looked up from his book and smiled when he saw his brother enter. "Remus! What brings you here?"

"I thought that I should check whether you were still alive," Remus said, as he sat down next to Romulus. "After all, young people such as you can't be expected to be able to manage themselves without the help of their big brother."

"Oh sure," Romulus said sceptically. "Is three years really such a big difference now?"

"I heard it seems smaller when you get older, but so far I haven't seen any difference. It must mean that you're still very immature."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny." Romulus looked at Remus, studying his brother's face. "How're you? Still okay?"

"Thriving," Remus said. "Umbridge is Headmistress of Hogwarts and she has the job I used to have. She's probably indoctrinating the students against werewolves as we speak. What more can I ask for?"

"A less sarcastic tone perhaps. Yeah, that does suck. How's Dumbledore under all this?"

"Perfectly cheerful, of course. In fact, he spends his days in a pub." When Remus saw Romulus' weirded-out expression at this, he quickly added: "in Aberforth's pub in Hogsmeade, the Hog's Head. Nobody would look for him there. And I have the sneaky suspicion that Dumbledore's even sometimes standing in for his brother, simply being the bartender while nobody would even dare think that the former Headmaster of Hogwarts has just given them their drinks, or is wiping the bar clean. It'd be exactly something Dumbledore would do."

"Undoubtedly," Romulus agreed. "It does sound like him."

Their conversation was cut off by the entrance of Nicholas, who was carrying a large pie. "Hey," he said, surprised at seeing both Lupin brothers seated at the table. "Visitors!"

"Hi," Remus said.

"What's the pie for?" Romulus wanted to know, not bothering to greet his colleague.

"Don't you know?" Nicholas asked incredulously. "It's Newt Scamander day!"

"_What_ kind of day?" both Remus and Romulus asked at the same time.

Nicholas sighed patiently, put the pie down on the table, and as he began to cut it in pieces, he began lecturing as though he was a professor at Hogwarts. "Newt Scamander, or Newton Artemis Fido Scamander as his full name is, is the reason why we are all here. Without the honourable Newton, we wouldn't know about gravity. Without the honourable Newton Scamander, there wouldn't be a Werewolf Registry, but he got the clever idea to make this long list, and appointed poor hapless wizards to the tiresome task of travelling all over the country to write down the address and occupation – if any – of poor werewolves who weren't really doing nothing wrong. And because of that nosy Mr Scamander, we're now eating pie."

A short silence followed this explanation. The combination of science and history delivered in that strange random way took a few moments to be taken in. At last, Romulus said: "so… is it his birthday today?"

"Actually, I have no idea," Nicholas admitted. "I just wanted to have pie. You want a piece?"

"Err, okay."

It was strawberry pie with whipped cream, and it tasted very good. When the three of them had finished their piece, Nicholas tapped the remainders of the pie with his wand so that it froze. This way, the rest of the Capture Unit could have a piece too, even if they didn't came to the Headquarters in a few days. Once he had done that, Nicholas went to clean out the cupboard where the Unit kept their spare robes and bedsheets for the four bunk beds in the Headquarters, leaving the Lupins to their own devices.

"I need a favour of you," Remus told his brother. Romulus pulled up his eyebrows.

"What?"

"I want you to find me an address on the Werewolf Registry."

"Whatever for?" Romulus asked, already getting up.

"Bit stupid really, but I wanted to send someone I know a letter, but I've lost the address."

"And that certain someone is a werewolf?"

"Remember the small girl you once met, a couple of months ago?"

"Yes."

"It's her. I want to write her, but as I said – I lost the address."

Romulus shook his head. "Remus, that's not like you. You never loose something. You're obviously ill."

"Undoubtedly. Now could you please..?"

"Yes, sure." Romulus led the way to the Werewolf Registry. "But why me, anyway?"

"You're a member of the Capture Unit, you can just walk in and get it," Remus explained. "I didn't want to wait in line with all the other animals."

"Oh right, I get it." Romulus narrowed his eyes. "I'm being used, aren't I?"

"It's such a relief to see that my brother can still use his brains," Remus replied, pretending to wipe away a tear.

"Colour me unimpressed."

They had reached the Registry, and like Remus had anticipated, they could just walk in. It was ridiculously easy compared to the complicated route he himself would have had to take. Romulus simply entered the Registry, asked if he could look up an address, and then did so.

"Which name?"

"Mills," Remus said. "Fay Mills."

It took Romulus not even a minute. He copied the address on a piece of paper, said goodbye to the wizard at the Registry, and then walked out again. Easy as pie, as the expression goes.

"There you are," he said, giving the address to Remus. "What'd you want with the address of a ten-year old anyway?"

"I told you, I wanted to write her." Remus carefully pocketed the address, hoping that this time around he wouldn't empty his pockets on the kitchen table in search for his keys, only to have several important pieces of paper being thrown away by a cleaning Molly. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem, I wasn't busy anyway." Romulus patted his brother on his shoulder. "You just take care, okay?"

"Of course. Say hi to Julia and the children from me."

"Will do." Romulus gave a short wave as goodbye and walked back to the Werewolf Capture Unit's Headquarters. Remus turned around and walked in the opposite direction, heading for the elevators. Time to write an offer of help and comfort, thinly disguised as an ordinary letter, to Fay Mills and family.

_

* * *

Dear Fay,_

_I meant to write you sooner, but – can you imagine it? – I lost the address. That will teach me for keeping it on a loose bit of paper in my pocket. I had to go back to the Werewolf Registry to ask for it. I'm actually starting to see the point of the Registry – it's great when you've lost the address of the girl you want to write._

_How are you? I haven't seen you in months; I bet you've grown much taller now. How's Tommy? I really liked your drawing of him, he seems like a cool cat. _

_Please write back soon – I promise that this time I'll write back sooner!_

_Remus. _

* * *

The answer came faster than he had expected. Not three days had passed when Arthur Weasley handed Remus two letters (Remus now let his mail be delivered to the Burrow – the Weasleys checked their mailbox more often than Remus did his own).

"These are for you," Arthur said. "I must be off. The Ministry awaits, and I need to find a reason to finally arrest Willy Widdershins."

"Just make up he hexed a toilet again," Remus suggested, smiling.

"Hex a toilet yourself and pretend Widdershins did it," suggested Sirius, always trying to top the first suggestion.

"And have Molly hex _me_ when she finds out?" Arthur said, laughing nonetheless. "No thank you."

He said goodbye, promising that he'd be back in time for dinner this evening. Sirius also excused him, saying he needed to look for Kreacher since he hadn't seen him in a week and he missed his favourite kicking-object. Thus, Remus was left alone in the kitchen.

He sat down and first tore open the letter with the most childish handwriting – he one he suspected came from Fay. This letter had also been decorated by her – instead of a cat, little monsters with huge fangs were drawn in the margins, playing around, sitting on swings attached to the lines on the paper or just showing off their teeth.

_Dear Remus, _the letter read,

_Tommy _is_ a cool cat – he likes to read too, just like me. At least, he likes to sleep in my lap when I am reading, so I think he likes it when I read, so that must mean he likes reading! _

_Why do you live in the Burrow now? Mum says a burrow is a place where animals live, but you're not an animal. Did you move houses? Can I see where you live now? You could come and visit me too if you like, I'm sure Mum and Dad won't mind. _

_Did you hear that professor Dumbledore had to leave Hogwarts? I think it's really mean that he had to, because he hadn't done anything wrong, had he? And now he can't live in the castle anymore. I still hope I can go there over a few years, when I'm eleven. Do you think they'd let me? _

_Please write back soon,_

_Fay. _

"I don't know if they'd let you," he told the letter quietly. "I actually don't dare to hope actually." He put the letter down and tore the second letter open. He was surprised to see who had send it to him – Fay's mother.

_Dear Remus,_

_Please forgive me for writing to you, but I wanted to ask you a favour. I hope – I am fairly sure – that when you read what I want to ask, you'd understand why. _

_You seemed to be on good terms with Dumbledore when we visited Hogwarts about a year ago, so you probably already know that he has had to leave the school and step down as Headmaster. Dolores Umbridge is now Headmistress. You know even better than we do how she thinks about werewolves. Fay's father and I are worried that Fay's chances of being accepted at Hogwarts are now gone. You told us that Dumbledore had allowed you, that had given us hope, but Dumbledore has had to step down exactly for being so accepting. The future doesn't look too good for Fay._

_Fay herself doesn't seem to be too worried or even interested in it, but I fear that secretly she's really afraid that she doesn't get to go to Hogwarts after all. She, like every ten-year old, isn't that aware of politics, but she knows that Umbridge is prejudiced against werewolves and that she's now the Hogwarts Headmistress. I think she knows only too well that her being accepted into the school depends on the Headmaster or –mistress, and she's worried that she now doesn't get to go – but she won't say anything about it to us. I think she doesn't want to make us worry about her anymore than we already do, so she's keeping quiet, but I know it's troubling her. _

_Could you please come over to our house once? I don't mean to sound rude or discriminatory, but you're the only one of 'her kind' we know, and she quite looks up to you. I think it'd do her a lot of good if you could come. _

_Kind regards,_

_Ann Mills. _

There was a frown on Remus' face when he finished the letter. He could have expected something like this – a new Headmistress, particularly _this_ new Headmistress, would bring some changes in the way Hogwarts was run. Expected, but also unexpected changes, and not all for the good. Not at all, in fact.

He just reached for a quill and a sheet of parchment to write back that yes, he'd love to come, when he suddenly heard a voice.

"Sirius?"

He jumped and abruptly turned to the fire, where the voice was coming from. To his surprise, Harry's head was lying in the fire, looking up at him.

"Harry!" Remus said. "What are you – what's happened, is everything all right?"

"Yeah," said Harry, uncomfortably turning his neck so he could look at Remus. "I just wondered – I mean, I just fancied a – a chat with Sirius."

"I'll call him," said Remus. He got to his feet, still amazed. "He went upstairs to look

for Kreacher, he seems to be hiding in the attic again…" Harry nodded, and Remus quickly walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs, taking two steps at the time. _Why_ Harry wanted to talk to Sirius was a complete mystery to Remus, but it was undoubtedly urgent. McGonagall had told him that Umbridge had heightened security and was checking every bit of mail that came to and from Hogwarts. The fires would have to be extra guarded, so it was no small feat that Harry managed to get one to get in contact with Grimmauld Place.

Sirius was indeed in the attic, half-heartedly looking for his house-elf. Like Remus, he was utterly surprised that Harry wanted to talk to him, through the fire no less.

"Why can't he just use the Two-way mirror?" he asked. Remus shrugged.

"Maybe he thinks it's too conspicuous if he's talking to a mirror with your face on it and not his own," he shrugged. "But let's go down, he's waiting."

Sirius was all for this suggestion, and the two of them hurried downstairs again and into the kitchen. Sirius walked to the hearth straight away and kneeled down before it so that he was at eyelevel with his Godson. Reflexively sweeping his long hair out of his eyes, he wasted no time and immediately asked: "what is it? Are you all right? Do you need help?"

"No," said Harry, shaking his head slightly, "it's nothing like that… I just wanted to talk… about my dad."

Whatever they had expected, it wasn't this. Problems with Umbridge maybe, or other school-related things. Not questions about James.

If Harry had noticed their surprise, he didn't show it. He immediately embarked on a story about this last Occlumency lesson, already a couple of weeks ago. Snape, he told them, had had a Pensieve to store thoughts in. Draco Malfoy had asked Snape to come with him because of something Slytherin-related, and Harry was left alone with the Pensieve. The curiosity had been too great, Harry had entered the Pensieve and witnessed one of the Marauder's more shameful moments. The painful thing for Harry was that it had been mainly James, his father who had sacrificed his life for his wife and son, who had bullied Snape, who had humiliated him in front of the entire school. No wonder Snape hated him.

When he had finished, Sirius and Remus were both quiet for a few moments. Remus felt Sirius' eyes on him, and he could guess what his friend was thinking: _what are we going to tell him? How are we going to solve this?_

Remus spoke first. "I wouldn't like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry," he said quietly. "He was only fifteen –"

"I'm fifteen!" Harry interrupted indignantly.

"Look, Harry," Sirius took over. "James and Snape hated each other from the moment

they set eyes on each other, it was just one of those things, you can understand that, can't you? I think James was everything Snape wanted to be – he was popular, he was good at Quidditch – good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts, and James – whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry – always hated the Dark Arts."

"Yeah," Harry retorted, "but he just attacked Snape for no good reason, just because – well, just because you said you were bored." He seemed to feel a bit uncomfortable practically accusing Sirius.

"I'm not proud of it," said Sirius quickly.

Remus glanced at him. _There were times when you were proud of it, and I've had reasons to suspect you still are_, he thought. But now was not the time to talk about _that_. He turned to Harry. "Look, Harry," he tried to explain, "what you've got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did – everyone thought they were the height of cool – if they sometimes got a bit carried away –'

"If we were sometimes arrogant little berks, you mean," said Sirius, smiling. Remus smiled too – he could hardly deny it.

"He kept messing up his hair," said Harry, sounding embarrassed of his father.

Sirius and Remus both laughed, suddenly remembering that James did used to do that all the time, as if his hair hadn't been messy enough already.

"I'd forgotten he used to do that," said Sirius fondly.

"Was he playing with the Snitch?" said Remus, eagerly leaning forward. Fifteen-year old James seemed to appear in his mind, clearer and clearer. An arrogant idiot from time to time, yes, but also a good and loyal friend.

"Yeah," said Harry. He now sounded a bit uncomfortable, and he looked uncomprehendingly at the two before him, who were beaming and grinning at the memories. "Well…" he said apologetically, "I thought he was a bit of an idiot."

"Of course he was a bit of an idiot!" Sirius admitted readily, 'we were all idiots! Well – not Moony so much," he added, glancing at Remus.

Remus, however, shook his head. He knew that this compliment was not true – he had been an idiot too. Not in the same way James and Sirius had been idiots, but an idiot nonetheless. "Did I ever tell you to lay off Snape?" he said. "Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?"

"Yeah, well," said Sirius hesitantly, "you made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes… that was something…"

"And," Harry continued, "he kept looking over at the girls by the lake, hoping they were watching him!"

That had also been typically James-behaviour. "Oh, well, he always made a fool of himself whenever Lily was around," said Sirius casually, "he couldn't stop himself showing off whenever he got near her."

"How come she married him?" Harry asked, a miserable expression on his face. "She hated him!"

"Nah, she didn't," said Sirius, dismissively waving his hand.

"She started going out with him in seventh year," Remus told Harry.

"Once James had deflated his head a bit," said Sirius.

"And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it," added Remus.

"Even Snape?" Harry persisted.

"Well," said Remus carefully, "Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn't really expect James to take that lying down, could you?"

"And my mum was OK with that?" Harry sounded downright incredulous.

"She didn't know too much about it, to tell you the truth," admitted Sirius. "I mean, James didn't take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?" Harry still looked sceptical, and Sirius noticed it. "Look," he said, "your father was the best friend I ever had and he was a good person. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out of it."

"Yeah, OK," said Harry heavily. "I just never thought I'd feel sorry for Snape."

Sirius smiled ruefully. Feeling sorry for Snape was something he couldn't imagine doing. But Harry's question had made Remus think of something.

"Now you mention it," he said, frowning, "how did Snape react when he found you'd seen all this?"

"He told me he'd never teach me Occlumency again," said Harry, and Sirius and Remus could almost see him shrug, "like that's a big disappoint –"

Sirius didn't even let him finish his sentence. "He WHAT?" he shouted at his Godson, who jumped and nearly choked on a mouthful of ashes.

"Are you serious, Harry?" Remus asked urgently. "He's stopped giving you lessons?"

"Yeah." His green eyes were opened wide at surprise at their reaction. "But it's OK, I don't

care, it's a bit of a relief to tell you the –"

It wasn't a relief at all to the two men listening to him. For months they had repeated it: nothing was as important as Harry learning to close his mind for intrusion. They could absolutely not risk Voldemort entering the boy's mind and using him for his own purposes. They had thought that Snape would have enough loyalty and discipline to continue the lessons no matter what happened.

"I'm coming up there to have a word with Snape!" said Sirius impulsively. He already got to his feet, ready to climb into the fire and Floo himself to Hogwarts, but Remus forcefully took him by the wrist and yanked him down again. Sirius hit the floor with a thud and glared at his friend, but Remus didn't care.

"If anyone's going to tell Snape it will be me!" he said sharply. He then turned to Harry again. "But Harry, first of all, you're to go back to Snape and tell him that on no account is he to stop giving you lessons – when Dumbledore hears –"

"I can't tell him that, he'd kill me!" Harry interrupted. "You didn't see him when we got out

of the Pensieve."

"Harry, there is nothing so important as you learning Occlumency!" said Remus urgently. He was leaning forward on his knees towards the fire and stressed every word with a jot of his hand. "Do you understand me? Nothing!"

"OK, OK," Harry said, sounding thoroughly annoyed at what he apparently thought an overreaction. "I'll… I'll try and say something to him… but it won't be –" He stopped abruptly and seemed to listen to something. "Is that Kreacher coming downstairs?"

Sirius looked over his shoulder, but they were still the only ones in the kitchen. "No," he said. "It must be somebody your end."

"I'd better go!" said Harry hastily. With that, he drew his head back and was gone. Remus and Sirius watched the green flames flicker and then die. After that, they stared at the empty fireplace, trying to comprehend what they had just heard. Sirius was the first one who spoke.

"I'm going to kill him," he whispered, sounding almost awed. "I'm going to kill the little bastard."

"Sirius, don't." Remus gave his friend a warning look, trying against better judgement to hold back the inevitable explosion that would follow.

Sirius aggressively turned towards him. "Do what?" he snarled. "Don't harm precious little Snivvelus? Don't hurt the poor little son of a bitch who can't even be bothered to _keep a promise_ just because his feelings are hurt? Is that it?" Sirius' voice had grown louder with every sentence. He got to his feet, towering over Remus who was still sitting kneeled on the floor. "Oh sure, Snivellus," he continued sarcastically. "Of course you can stop giving those lessons we told you the importance of pretty much every time we saw you because Harry saw you fucking _get what you deserve._" He had shouted these last words in the direction of the hearth as if he was hoping Snape could hear him.

Remus had had enough. He jumped to his feet too. "Stop it," he said sharply. "Just shut up!"

"And what if I don't?" Sirius bit back. "_Make_ me shut up, Moony. I daresay you know how to do it by now, since you've been doing it for the past months, haven't you?" He adopted a whiny, exaggerated motherly tone. "Oh, no Sirius, you can't leave the house, it's much too dangerous. No Sirius, you can't send letters, someone will find out. No Sirius, you just have to do as you're told because I and Dumbledore know best. No Sirius, you can't beat up Snape for being a fucking moron."

"You're being unreasonable," Remus said, a warning tone in his voice, "and I don't want to talk to you when you're like that."

"Oh right, I forgot, Mr Remus Lupin only want to talk to people who are calm, reasonable and boring, just like him," Sirius mocked. "Why don't you go to your big friend Dumbledore and talk calmly and reasonably about, oh I don't know, letting walking grease-spots with the intelligence of a dungbeetle teach a subject that's supposed to save the all-important boy _on whom the existence of the magical world depends_. Smart move, uh-huh." He nodded mock-thoughtfully, taunting Remus.

Remus was determined to stand his ground, to not give in to Sirius' desire to have a huge row. If there was anything Remus disliked, it was a fight. He therefore held his tongue, walked to the kitchen table and picked up his letters, determined to leave the kitchen, only to come back when Sirius had calmed down. He turned to his friend. "I told you I don't want to talk to you when you're like this," he said with a determined calm. "I'm leaving now. I'm sorry." He nodded shortly, and he was already halfway through the kitchen when something Sirius said stopped him.

"No you're not," Sirius said loudly. "'I'm sorry' is just your way of saying you don't want to have this conversation, that you don't want to have an argument." Remus turned around sharply.

"What did you say?" he said, despite having heard perfectly well what Sirius had just said. Sirius knew this too – he was leaning against the hearth, grinning. There was an excited glitter in his eyes.

"You heard me," he said, sounding calm but in truth being anything but. It didn't happen often that Remus actually reacted to one of his taunts.

"You want to talk?" Remus said, thoroughly annoyed. "That's what you want? Fine." He marched to the table, threw his letters on it, yanked a chair back and sat down. He glared at Sirius. "Talk."

Sirius was too angry to realise that this sudden change in Remus was not a good thing. "Good," he said. "Fine. Let's talk about Snivellus."

"Snape," Remus corrected.

"Snivellus," Sirius insisted. "That nasty little fucker who can't be bothered to put things that happened in the past, behind him."

"I asked you not to call him that," Remus said sharply. He sat up straighter in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he looked at Sirius. "And he's hardly the only one who doesn't seem to be able to put past things behind him."

"Are you accusing me?" Sirius asked. He narrowed his eyes too. "Don't you dare compare me to that rat."

"I'm not accusing you, I'm stating a simple fact, something _you_ apparently can't realise. And yes, I _am_ comparing you to _Severus Snape._ And I'd really like you to call him that."

"That git would wish he was like me," Sirius muttered.

"What? Moody, chagrined, depressing, argumentative, petty and impulsive?" Remus said with a mocking tone to his voice. "Well, gee, I can imagine Snape wanting to be like that."

"I'm not petty and impulsive," Sirius snarled, "and the only reason I'm depressed is because I've been fucking shut up in this hole for months!"

"And you know why?" Remus bit, but Sirius interrupted him.

"I bloody know why!" he shouted. "Because Dumbledore thinks the only place I'm good enough to be in is this house!"

"No," Remus replied loudly, almost as loudly as Sirius. "It's exactly because you _are_ impulsive! We can't risk you getting out! You should've heard you, just before! You were ready to go off to Hogwarts, just like that! If that isn't impulsive I don't know what _is_."

"Oh, and now it's a fault if I care for my Godson?" Sirius said hotly. "I can't believe Snivellus is getting away with simply breaking off the Occlumency lessons while _I_ get scolded for wanting to protect Harry!"

"I never said Snape is _getting away with it_," Remus said impatiently. "Sirius, what you fail to understand is that it's important to _think_ before you act."

"You can't always plan everything you do!" Sirius shouted. "There are more important things than that!"

"Yes, like making sure that things are safe, that you won't mess up when you do something. Being aware of the dangers of your plans," Remus shouted back. He now got to his feet. "Face it, Sirius. You _are_ too rash. What Snape did doesn't deserve an award, but neither does rushing out to kill him – "

"I wasn't really going to kill him," Sirius cut in, annoyed. "God, I was only joking."

"I don't always know the difference between jest and seriousness," Remus said coolly. "Especially not with you, and especially not when it involves Snape."

"I was sixteen then, okay?" said Sirius, getting what Remus was hinting at and not liking it. "I've grown up. Unlike Snape." He added this last bit scornfully.

"No Sirius." Remus was calm again, cool even. "Neither of you have grown up. You're both acting on impulses, unwilling to forgive each other. You know why I compared you to Snape? Because you _are_ just like him." He picked up his letters from the table and made to leave the kitchen, but turned around just before walking out. "You know what, Sirius? Just… grow up." He turned around again and left, not caring what Sirius would do next, or even what he was thinking.


	19. Fights and a reconciliation

Gawd, I just got teary-eyed writing the last bit of this chapter. Snif. Only one more chapter to go, before... you know. I managed to chuck in some-last minute R/S-ness while I still can, although it's not explicit or anything. I'll just quote Marianne Dashwood from Jane Austen's _Sense & Sensibility_ here when I say that "It was every day implied, but never professedly declared"!

I'm horribly showing off my knowledge of the London Underground here, but it's just the best metro I know! The one in Amsterdam isn't big enough, the one in Rome is too rickety and old, the one in New York has those awful plastic benches and I feel uncomfortable going there after nine in the evening. The London Underground is nice and big and has plush chairs, so what's not to love? ;) (And I feel like such a travel-wise person when I'm making those comparisons!)

Anyway, chapter. Enjoy!

**

* * *

June 1996. **

_"There was nobody left to tell. Dumbledore had gone, Hagrid had gone, but he had always expected Professor McGonagall to be there, irascible and inflexible, perhaps, but always dependably, solidly present…"_

* * *

Things weren't going very well. 

First there had been this whole fight with Sirius. That had been more than four weeks ago, and he and Remus still hadn't made up. Sirius was so angry with Remus he even refused to acknowledge his friend's existence, and Remus on his part refused to give in; not this time. He had given in so many times, just to keep the peace, but he decided that this mattered. It was time for Sirius to grow up, to realise that not everything could be done his way. This time, Remus would stand his ground. He knew he was right and that Sirius was just too foolhardy to say so.

It affected the entire atmosphere at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. It was only now that the rest of the Order realised what a calming effect Remus had had on Sirius. The latter now had plenty of time to moodily stalk the corridors and the staircases, with no-one to tell him to cut it out – he would only have taken orders like that from Remus, but now Remus couldn't be bothered. And even if he could, it was likely that Sirius would have obstinately refused to do as he was told, simply to spite his friend.

As if having a fight with his best friend wasn't enough, Remus had also had a blazing row with Snape. He had confronted the Potion Master after the very first meeting of the Order after Harry had talked to them through Umbridge's fire. He had been so tactful to talk to him in the deserted sitting room upstairs, and a good thing too, because Snape's reaction hadn't been suited for more company. The man had flat-out refused to continue the lessons. First he had put the blame on Harry's insatiable curiosity and general nosiness and rudeness, then he had claimed that there had never been much learning on Harry's side anyway, but Remus slowly managed to get the real reason out. Snape hated Harry, he hated everything to do with the Potters, and he had been reluctant to teach Harry from the first. That dive in the Pensieve and the witnessing of teenage Snape being humiliated had only been the last straw. So Remus' suggestion that he put the past behind him and just continue teaching Harry wasn't exactly received well. Snape hadn't got one of his fits, but he had got very pale, and with thin lips he had only said one word: "never." The look in his eyes had warned Remus not to push the subject any further. The conversation hadn't developed into a full-scale row like the one with Sirius, but Remus hadn't got off easy either: Snape had just as good a memory as Sirius had when it came to humiliation, insults or just generally things he didn't like, and from that evening on he eyed Remus with even more distrust than usual. But instead of making Remus feel bad, as it usually would, it only annoyed him further. Hell, he had done nothing wrong. For some reason or other, Harry always seemed to cause arguments, even if it wasn't directly, and Remus was usually left to try and make amends. If only that pattern would change once in a while, he wished.

To top it all off, the Weasley twins, Fred and George, had decided that full-time education wasn't their thing anymore, so they had left school – much to the anger of Molly Weasley. She couldn't believe her eyes when she received the letter from the twins, happily announcing that they'd got premises at Diagon Alley and had opened a joke-shop.

"A joke-shop!" she kept repeating. "With what money? I knew those two would never turn out to anything sensible, but a joke-shop of all things!" She got the opportunity to shout this at them in person when the twins turned up at the Headquarters, but the two boys remained stone-faced under it all: eighteen years as the most unruly kids under her care had given them a fairly thick hide. They left again without Molly's forgiveness, and judging by the furious muttering she had done when she was preparing dinner that evening, they wouldn't get forgiveness for a long time either. Dinner that evening had been tense, with Molly glaring and snapping at everybody who dared to say something, Sirius being not much better and Remus not talking at all. Arthur and Tonks feebly tried to keep a conversation going, but eventually had to give up, and the meal ended in silence with everybody wishing to be somewhere else.

In short: things weren't going very well.

* * *

It was June already. When he thought about it, Remus could hardly believe that it was already a year ago that Voldemort had regained his powers. It seemed much shorter, and at the same time much longer – shorter because so much had happened in the past year, but longer because, what with the Order being back to business, the intermediate fourteen years seemed not to have happened. 

It was a fairly clouded summer day when Remus and Tonks got on their way to the nearest London Underground station. It was a strange habit they shared: going to the Ministry by Tube. Kingsley rolled his eyes at them and couldn't imagine why the crowded, cramped metro was preferable to simply Apparating there, but Remus and Tonks liked the Muggleness of it all. The cute little gates that swallowed your ticket, the long escalators and the slowness of the transport. It was all so primitive and clumsy.

"Another reason why I really like it," Remus told Tonks as they were waiting for the Circle Line train, "is this feeling of being surrounded by people who think they're absolutely normal people living in an absolutely normal world, with nothing silly like wizards and magic."

"Like you're in a secret club," Tonks said contentedly, and he nodded.

An ominous thunder announced the arrival of their train. The doors slid open and they got on board, along with a throng of other people going to their work. There was another reason Remus liked the Underground, a reason he had never told Tonks: being on the Tube during the morning rush hour made him feel a part of the group, as if he was someone going to his job too. It made him feel normal and useful.

Tonks stopped trying to read the Daily Mirror of the man standing next to her and turned to Remus. "Have you talked to Sirius yet?" she asked, out of the blue. Remus had told her about Sirius' and his argument because she couldn't help but notice that they weren't talking to each other anymore.

Remus smiled wryly. "What is there to talk about?" he asked. "Sirius will never admit I was right, and I'm not going to say I was wrong just to appease him."

"No, I don't think you should, either," she said pensively. She quickly grabbed one of the yellow poles in the train to prevent herself from toppling over as the train took a particularly sharp and fast turn. "But what can you do?"

"The problem is simply Sirius' immense stubbornness," he said. "He flat-out refuses to admit being wrong, or being weaker or whatever. Once he has made a discussion or formed an opinion he'll stick to it, even when he realises later that it was a stupid one. Saying he was wrong seems to compare to admitting defeat."

Tonks couldn't answer for a moment because the train had just arrived at a station; the doors opened and people moved off and on. When the last one had worked himself inside, the doors closed again and they moved on, much more crowded together now.

"I know exactly what you're talking about," Tonks continued the conversation, ignoring the people pressing against her and pretending to be the only one on the train – just like the rest of the passengers were doing. "My Mum's exactly the same. Stubborn as a mule sometimes – too proud to admit defeat. In fact, she even told me one day, when I was having a particularly bad time at school because I was being bullied for being 'weird', that I should just hold my head high and pretend nothing had happened. Whatever I did, I shouldn't ask for help. Exact words: 'Blacks don't ask for help'. Of course, pretending nothing had happened didn't mean that Blacks don't hold grudges or will try to take revenge in some underhand kind of way. You're just not supposed to show weakness."

"Exactly," Remus agreed, "exactly! That's Sirius. He doesn't allow himself to show what he thinks is weakness."

"Except that the problem is that people who think there's nothing wrong with admitting you're wrong usually end up in the position where they can do nothing but apologise for being wrong when they were in fact right, just to keep the peace."

"You summed it up admirably."

"So we'll just have to learn to be assertive, and then we can kick Sirius' arse."

"You can do that, in case he kicks back – did you see the boots he's wearing?"

Tonks laughed. "We can always ask Bill to kick Sirius in our stead."

The conversation was interrupted again by their arrival at a station. A female voice announced where they were, which lines they could change for, for which tourist attractions they could alight here, and that there was a regular trainstation here too. Last but not least, she warned them to mind the gap between the train and the platform. Her efforts, though, went almost unnoticed – most of the travellers had already heard it a dozen times.

"I don't see how you can miss the gap between the train and the platform," Tonks joked, "it's right next to the train."

Remus laughed, but he seemed to be the only one – the people around him were all too caught up in their morning-mood to laugh at jokes.

"You know what I don't understand?" he asked, picking up their conversation again.

"No? What?"

"Your mum. Sirius told me she got kicked out of the family because she wanted to marry your dad, but at the same time she's teaching you Black-family values. Wouldn't she do the exact reverse?"

Tonks sighed. "Well, blood's thicker than water, as they say. You know, I think the thing is that exactly those same things kept her standing. They kicked her out, she had to survive on her own because her own family wasn't going to help her. She's proud of course, like all Blacks, so she didn't want to show how much she suffered. The family motto should be changed to 'never, ever, ever show weakness', really."

"That makes sense," he nodded. "I mean, not changing the motto or anything, but about being too proud to admit needing help."

"Describes Sirius to a T, doesn't it?"

"Exactly."

The train slowed down once more. This was the station nearest to the Ministry, and so they both wriggled and excused their way out of the train. There were no escalators here, only long staircases. They went through the gates once more and walked up another staircase until they were finally outside.

"Coming with to the Ministry?" Tonks asked. "We got coffee."

"That sounds really tempting," Remus said, "but I really can't. I already agreed to meet someone else."

"Really? Who?"

"The cutest girl I ever saw."

"Remus!" Tonks acted impressed. "I didn't know you were seeing a girl. Tell me, how is she? Nice? Pretty? How old is she anyway?"

"She's ten," Remus said, and laughed at Tonks' weirded-out expression. "Don't look at me like that. It's a young werewolf I met about a year ago. She's coming to Diagon Alley with her parents to do Hogwarts shopping for her brother, and I agreed to come along with them."

"So you can tell them what an old crone Umbridge is before they find out themselves. Very clever."

"Not quite like that," he said. "Besides, they already know. Anyway, I really must be off. Promise to be nice today, okay?"

"I'll only tease Kingsley once, I promise," Tonks said, taking the air of a sweet little girl.

"Good girl." Remus patted Tonks' head. She laughed, then said goodbye. She waved once more before going into the telephonebox that would take her into the atrium of the Ministry. Remus waited until she was out of sight, then, instead of going back to the Underground, he Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron.

After all, the Muggle ways were cute and fun, but there was nothing better than a nice, fast Apparition.

* * *

After so many weeks of being glared at and being ignored, Remus had almost forgotten what it was liked to be greeted with a hug at stomach-height that nearly took you down. Not that Sirius ever used to hug him at stomach-level, but it was the principle that mattered. 

Fay seemed to embrace this principle as warmly as she embraced him when she caught sight of him walking into the Leaky Cauldron. He had barely set a foot over the threshold when the small blond girl came rushing towards him. She had grown since he'd last seen her, but she still didn't reach higher than roughly his chest, so the area that was easiest for her to hug was his stomach. Unfortunately for him.

"Oof," he said, laughing. "Let me breathe, please."

She let go of him. "I didn't know you'd come," she said excitedly. "I mean, Mum said you'd come, but I wasn't really sure if you'd come even though she said you'd come."

"Of course I would come," he said. "Why would I want to miss spending a day with you?"

She smiled broadly, then took his hand and pulled him towards the table where her parents and brother were sitting. Fay's brother, Mark, was only a year and a half older than she was, and had turned eleven a few months ago. It was clear to Remus that they were siblings: they had the same facial features and the same build. Mark only had darker hair than Fay, who was almost white-blonde.

Mr and Mrs Mills greeted Remus fondly: just the fact that their daughter was so happy to see him would have been enough for them to like him, but they were really fond of him.

"How are you?" Mr Mills asked.

"Fine, thank you," Remus said. "Ready for a day of book-shopping."

"A bookworm, are you?" Mrs Mills said. "Fay too."

"Take me book-shopping," Fay immediately demanded. "Please?"

"But aren't you actually here for your brother?" he asked, smiling.

"Mark can go book-shopping on his own, or with Mum and Dad," she said, scowling a bit.

"Hey!" Mark protested at being left out so easily.

"Don't worry," Mrs Mills laughed. "Nobody has to go on his own."

"I go with Remus," Fay interrupted. She protectively took his sleeve. "I don't want to see Mark buy robes."

"Fine. I don't want you to come anyway." Mark stuck out his tongue – his sister immediately did the same.

"Kids," their mother warned. "Listen, we'll do this. We'll split up – yes Fay, you can go with Remus – and we'll meet at four o'clock at Florean Fortescues. How's that for a plan?"

It sounded like a great plan for all involved. Mr and Mrs Mill and Mark set off for Madam Malkin's to buy school robes.

Remus looked at Fay, who looked back up at him. "What do you want to do?" he asked.

"Books?" she said.

He thought this an excellent suggestion, so they set off as well to find the nearest bookshop. They spend an hour browsing before they realised that they would never have enough money to buy all the books they wanted, so there was a change of plans. They went 'Hogwarts shopping: the fun way', which basically meant going to all the shops and look at all the things necessary for a first-year student at Hogwarts, with the exception of boring things like robes and potion-ingredients and the like. Fay had been to Diagon Alley before, but she'd never looked around with the purpose of buying school supplies (or even pretending to have that goal), and she was fascinated by the magical things first-years were supposed to have. They spend ages testing all the telescopes and magnifying glasses in Ledermann's Lenses Shop, where Fay wouldn't rest until Simon Ledermann, the owner of the shop, had explained exactly how a glass lens was cut and polished into the right shape. Then they went to the Great Glass House, a store specialised in everything made of glass, from simple bottles to the finest wineglasses, where they pretended to be looking for phials for Potions class. They skipped the apothecary, which they suspected was too smelly for their sensitive noses. Instead, they went to Olivanders, where Fay gazed longingly through the window at the hundreds of wands inside.

"I so wish I could have my own wand," she said.

"Only a year away," Remus said, "then you can buy your school supplies for real."

"Yeah," she said, but there was a somewhat sad tone in her voice.

Remus didn't react to this until later, when they were at Florean Fortescues. Fay's parents and brother hadn't arrived yet, so Remus bought Fay a large chocolate-and-strawberry sundae, which cheered her up again.

"The good thing is," he said conversationally as he tried to nick ice-cream from her sundae, "is that next year, you'll know exactly where to find everything you need."

"You don't really think I get to go to Hogwarts, do you?" she asked quietly, looking up.

"I wouldn't know why not," he said bracingly, but he felt a surge of pity when he saw the tears in her eyes.

"Because – because I am… you know," she said with a trembling voice. "And Mum and Dad said it'll be alright, but I just know that they'll never let me come if Dumbledore's not there!"

Remus simply couldn't make himself lie to her. She was absolutely right, Umbridge would never allow Fay to go to Hogwarts. At the same time, he felt horrible to have to crush her hopes, just because some awful little woman had managed to snatch Dumbledore's job.

"Fay," he said sympathetically, "please, don't cry – "

Those words did it. Tears rolled down her cheeks, even though she bravely tried to keep them in. He quickly took his handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her. She took it gratefully.

"Listen," he said. "I think your mum and dad are right. It will be alright. It's still a few months away before you get your letter, and more than a whole year before you even start Hogwarts! A lot can happen in a year."

"But what if Dumbledore never comes back?" she said tearfully.

"You know, I was talking to him the other day, and he said that he'll try everything to be Headmaster of Hogwarts again. He didn't want to leave – he loves the school."

"Did you ask him about me too?" she asked, slightly more hopeful.

"Yes, of course," he lied. "And he said that if you really want to come, he'll try his best even more to come back."

"Really?"

"Really," he said. It was only half a lie – he was pretty sure it would have been exactly Dumbledore's reaction had their conversation taken place. "And Professor Snape said he's really looking forward to teaching you." This was an obvious lie – he tried to get her to laugh.

It worked. "No he didn't," she said, smiling. "He didn't seemed to like me at all when we visited him."

"Well okay, maybe I made that one up." They laughed at each other. "Better now?" he asked.

"Yes," she sighed, but it was a content sigh. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose with his handkerchief, then wanted to give it back, but he told her she could keep it.

"Then we'll have a reason to see each other again," he said, "so you can give it back then."

"Okay," she agreed, and carefully put the handkerchief in her pocket.

They spend the rest of the time they had to wait for Mr and Mrs Mills and Mark eating ice-cream and watching passers-by. This was such an enjoyable thing to do that when the rest of the Mills family arrived, they joined Remus and Fay in it. It was only when it was nearly dinner-time that they agreed it was time to leave.

Fay hugged Remus again, this time as a goodbye.

"Until next time," she said.

"Be sure to watch for that letter on your birthday," he promised. He would make sure she'd get it, even if he would have to poison Umbridge for it.

"I will," she said. She waved and smiled at him when she and her parents walked to the Underground to take the train back home, and Remus waved back until she was gone. He felt like he'd do anything, just to keep her happy.

* * *

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place was as dark and gloomy as it had ever been. Merely entering the house put a damper on Remus' spirits. He tiptoed through the hall, past Mrs Black's portrait and to the kitchen. 

To his annoyance, he found Sirius sitting there, doing nothing except being chagrined. Normally, before their fight, Remus would have tried to cheer his friend up. But right now, he just couldn't make himself to care.

Sirius looked up. "Oh, it's you," he said disinterestedly.

"Yeah. Any news?"

"Nothing of any real interest." Sirius picked up the Daily Prophet that had been lying before him on the table and held it in the air. Remus took it from him.

"Thanks." He made to walk out of the kitchen again.

"That's it, huh?" Sirius said sarcastically. "I'm just the paperboy now?"

"Goodbye Sirius," Remus said coolly. He ignored whatever Sirius did next and walked all the way up to his bedroom, where he sat down on his bed to read the newspaper. He would have preferred to read it downstairs at the table, but not now Sirius was there.

Sirius had been right, there was nothing interesting in the newspaper, but Remus spend the rest of the evening reading it anyway. When he had pretty much spelled everything down to the last advertisement, he took a pencil and started filling in the crossword. Anything to keep him from having to go downstairs. He was secretly hoping Sirius would go to bed early this evening, but he knew Sirius always stayed up late, usually until well after midnight.

It didn't seem like Sirius was going to change his habits this night. It was almost half past twelve and he still hadn't come upstairs. Remus argued with himself for a while on whether he was going to go to bed now or go downstairs to get something to eat, but finally decided on the latter. An angry Sirius wasn't going to keep him away from food.

Sirius was still in the kitchen, but he wasn't angry – far from it, in fact. He looked up when Remus entered the kitchen, an agitated expression on his face as he held out a letter. "Kingsley send a message," he said. "Umbridge has asked for Aurors to come and help her sack Hagrid."

"What?" Remus took the letter from Sirius and quickly read it. Kingsley himself hadn't been asked to help this time, but five of his colleagues had, and he had had the luck to overhear where they were going and what they were going to do. Umbridge wanted to sack Hagrid at night, so as to keep the rest of the school from noticing until the next morning, when it was already too late. She had asked for Auror assistance because she was afraid to go to Hagrid all by herself – after all, who knew what such a half-creature could do when angered?

"That foul bitch," Sirius said, and Remus didn't object to the description.

"Does Dumbledore know?" he asked.

"I bet he does. Dumbledore always knows things before anyone else does."

Remus didn't bother to try and figure out if Sirius meant this in a bitter way – what Sirius thought of Dumbledore was not his problem. "I suppose Umbridge trying to get rid of Hagrid was inevitable," he said, "but I hadn't expected her to do it in such a sneaky way."

Sirius snorted. "I bet she was in Slytherin when she attended Hogwarts."

"That's an insult to the Slytherins," Remus stated quietly. To his surprise, Sirius smiled – apparently his dislike of Remus didn't go as far as his amusing comments.

"I guess that once again we can only wait," he said. "Butterbeer?"

"I'd much rather have something to eat," Remus said carefully. He wasn't sure how long this sudden niceness was going to last.

Sirius nodded and quickly prepared a small dinner. Remus ate and Sirius sat watching them as the minutes ticked away. Neither of them felt like sleeping, they were much too anxious to get tired.

It was almost two o'clock when a burst of fire suddenly appeared in mid-air. A folded piece of parchment, sealed and all, fell from it. Sirius had snatched it away before it even hit the table. He tore the seal open and quickly read its contents.

"It's from Dumbledore," he said.

"What does he write?" Remus wanted to know, anxiously leaning forward.

"He writes that Hagrid has been sacked, but he managed to get away, and he's gone into hiding too. Umbridge wasn't able to take him down, but – oh bloody hell."

"What?" Remus said sharply.

Sirius looked up, horrified. "They hit McGonagall with four Stunners at the same time, straight at the chest."

For a moment, it seemed like Remus was hit with a Stunning spell himself. "Four at the same time?" he asked incredulously. "That's… I have no words for it. Outrageous."

Sirius read the letter again. "It says that she hasn't died," he read aloud, "but Pomfrey says it doesn't look good, the heart's beating too faintly and irregularly, and she's afraid she may have to send McGonagall to St Mungo's tomorrow."

"I just can't believe it," Remus said. "It's… okay, it's something I'd expect Umbridge to do, but five Aurors too? You'd think they wouldn't attack an innocent woman."

But Sirius had just realised something else, and he looked at Remus, wide-eyed. "Do you know what this means?" he said. "In one night, Umbridge managed to take out both Hagrid and McGonagall. Two members of the Order at Hogwarts, gone. Just like that."

Remus immediately realised the implications of that. "Now she can pretty much do as she wants. I think she's delighted that McGonagall's out of the way now – she was getting too much of a nuisance."

"Yeah," Sirius said pensively. Then another realisation hit him, one that shocked him even more. "Oh Merlin. Now there's nobody left to look after Harry."

"Snape will look after him, I'm sure," Remus said, the tone of his voice warning Sirius not to start shouting about that again.

Amazingly enough, Sirius kept his temper for once. He only gave an incredulous snort and said: "do you really think old Sniv– "

Remus glared.

"Alright, Snape, will really do something like that?"

"If there's nobody else left to do it, yes, he will," Remus said firmly. "He's not so horrible as to leave Harry completely to his own devices."

To his surprise and relief, Sirius didn't actually argue this. Instead, he seemed to be trying to convince himself that Remus was right, that Snape would actually have enough decency in him to help Harry if he really had to. He didn't state directly that Remus could be right, but Remus knew Sirius would never do that anyway, so he might as well take his silence for it.

"I really wish I was at Hogwarts now," Sirius said eventually.

"That makes both of us," Remus agreed.

The clock struck three, making them both jump – they hadn't realised it was this late already.

"I think it's about time we get to bed," Remus suggested.

"Yeah," Sirius said obediently. "Let's hope tomorrow brings good news."

They walked up the stairs in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. When they arrived on the landing that lead to their rooms, Remus turned around to Sirius.

"Well, goodnight," he said.

"Um," Sirius said. Remus waited, an amused smile on his face. It wasn't often that Sirius was lost for words.

"What?" he said.

"Err," Sirius stuttered on. "Look. About Harry. And – and Snape." He seemed to be having trouble saying the proper name, but he said it nonetheless, Remus noted. "Listen."

"Yes?" Remus said encouragingly.

Sirius began pacing. "It's… you said that… you know, that Harry would be protected. Right? And you're sure, right?"

"Certainly."

"And… about a few weeks ago. Perhaps… there was a little too much shouting, and one of us didn't think everything he said all the way through, and maybe – "

"Sirius, if you're sorry, you can just say so."

"I never said I was," Sirius said defensively. "It's just that, um…"

"Listen," Remus said. "As amusing as it is to listen to you stuttering away – and trust me, it's the most fun I've had in months – I'm also getting really tired, so why don't we just accept that I was right and you were being an idiot and call it a night?"

"Um. Okay." Sirius seemed to be relieved at this chance to get away with it without actually saying that he had been wrong, so he made no objections.

"Goodnight, then," Remus said, and wanted to walk into his room.

"Err, Moony, wait?"

Remus rolled his eyes and turned around again. "Now what? I already know you're sorry. Apologies accepted."

"No, it's just…" Sirius took a deep breath and seemed to brace himself. "Can… Err. You know, I'm really stressed out now and worried. Can I…"

"Have some chocolate?" Remus began suggesting. "Warm milk? Tea? A goodnight kiss? A bedtime story?"

"Stop making fun of me," Sirius glared. Remus couldn't help himself – he grinned.

"Alright, I'll stop. What do you want?"

"Can I sleep in your room tonight? It's… Buckbeak is lousy company when you're worried." Sirius grinned shyly.

"Um. Okay, I suppose." Remus once again turned to walk into his room, but turned back to Sirius immediately. He raised a finger warningly. "Oh, remember that thing about your side and my side of the bed? That still stands."

"The no pillow fights too?" Sirius asked.

"Especially the no pillow fights."

They got inside Remus' room and made themselves ready to go to bed. Sirius first had to get a stack of books off of his side of the bed, but eventually they were ready to sleep. Remus clicked out the light, and the room was suddenly utterly dark.

"Hey Moony?" came Sirius' voice through the darkness.

"Hm?" Remus said sleepily.

"If I start having funny dreams – "

"If you start having funny dreams, you just wake me up and I'll shout at you, and then you'll only have nightmares about me yelling at you again, which isn't funny in the least. Can I go sleep?"

"Yes," Sirius said. He was lying on his back, his hands folded on his stomach, looking at the ceiling. He couldn't see it, but he could imagine it, white, with a silver candelabra in the middle. He imagined a sky full of stars instead.

A slow, steady breathing on his left told him that Remus had fallen asleep. He turned his head, but could only rather feel than see his friend. No doubt Remus was curled up in a foetal position now, his hands near his face, his mouth slightly open and smiling. Moony.

He sighed and rolled on his left side, his face towards Remus' back. He curled up, just like his friend, but he couldn't sleep – he was staring into darkness to where he knew Remus was.

He was immensely lucky that he had him for a friend, and he knew it. He doubted there was anybody alive right now who knew him as well as Remus did. Half a word was enough for his friend to understand him – even less: half a stutter was enough for him. Sirius was relieved that Remus was his friend again; the past weeks had been awfully lonely, and he hadn't wanted to confess it. He wondered if he was even capable of asking for help – it seemed like the hardest thing to do in the world.

After all, Blacks don't ask for help.


	20. The Department of Mysteries

**Finally, the second-to-last chapter, less than 2 days before HBP. I didn't really cry when I wrote this, but I was close to it! In fact, I wrote The Death in the middle of the night, and I'd just written it when I saw that it was half past one in the morning and I really needed to go to bed, so I had to stop halfway through the chapter - which is not a good thing. I was an emotional wreck for most of my working day. It didn't help much that I had my mp3player with me with my Magical Ministry Mix - a collection of songs that I thought fitted the last few chapters well. Try not to get teary-eyed when you're thinking about Remus' reaction and hear Queen's Too Much Love Will Kill you - trust me, it's hard! I'd never really realised just what a horrible event Sirius' death was (and now I do, two days before HBP. Yes, I'm slow sometimes...). It's not just Harry's Godfather, but Remus' best friend, the only one who's known him since he was 11, apart from his family...**

**Anyway, before I spoil half the chapter (although, if you've read OotP (WHY did I type"HBP" there! Because I want the book, that's why...) you already know how it ends), I'll let you read it. Be sure to have some tissues ready...**

**Quote from Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events: the Reptile Room.**

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* * *

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**June 18, 1996.**

_"It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in the world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know."_

* * *

You never see disasters coming. 

Both Remus and Sirius woke up rather late the following morning, which wasn't that surprising considering the time they had gone to bed. Sirius was the first to wake up. He was disoriented for a moment and couldn't remember why his room was suddenly so different. There was someone next to him, snoring a little, and it wasn't Buckbeak. That was ridiculous anyway since Buckbeak didn't snore, except that one time when he had had a cold. He looked to his left and realised that the small hill of covers, blue pyjamas and greying hair was actually Remus. In an instant, the memories of the past night came rushing back to him.

When he thought about it now, it seemed almost unbelievable. Hagrid had been kicked out of Hogwarts, McGonagall was badly wounded, Remus was his friend again. And because it had all taken place in the middle of the night it seemed like some kind of dream. But Remus next to him was proof that it wasn't.

He yawned so loudly that he woke Remus up, earning him one of Remus' more funny glares, one of the 'bloody hell can't you see I'm trying to sleep here?'-variety.

"Time to wake up," he said. "Rise and shine Moony!"

Remus grumbled and muttered something ominous.

"Didn't quite catch that," Sirius said.

"I said," came Remus' voice from somewhere among the covers, "that whether cheerful or chagrined, you always manage to be a pain in the ass."

"Really, Moony, I'm hurt." Sirius dramatically put a hand on his heart.

"Go get some breakfast and make yourself useful." Remus extracted himself from the covers and glared at his friend.

"Yes sir." Sirius made himself scarce, allowing his friend to get dressed. He got dressed himself too, then walked downstairs to get some breakfast.

The kitchen was empty except for a small pile of letters and a chagrined Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Auror jumped on Sirius as soon as he entered the kitchen.

"Where _were_ you?" he asked. "Did you really need to lie-in until noon?"

"I didn't realise it was that late already," Sirius said, glancing at the clock. Kingsley was right; it had already been twelve o'clock. "I went to bed only early in the morning."

"Stayed up because of what happened, didn't you?" Kingsley asked. "There're a bunch of letters for you, here, and I think they're exactly about that."

He was right. Pretty much all of the letters were from Dumbledore, about where Hagrid was now, what had happened at Hogwarts, that McGonagall was indeed taken to St Mungo's and what everybody was supposed to do now. As expected, Sirius was supposed to stay at Grimmauld Place, but since he hadn't expected Dumbledore to allow him to leave anyway he wasn't that angry about it.

"It says here that Hagrid pretty much took on five Aurors single-handedly," he said to Kingsley. "Did you hear anything about that?"

"Yeah," Kingsley said. "There's been an alert at the Auror Headquarters about Hagrid, we're not supposed to get within a range of about five yards of him in case he does something to us too. It's suspected that he went to join Dumbledore."

"Not exactly an unfounded suspicion," Sirius said. "It's at least a better guess than the escaped Death Eaters joining _me_."

"With all the information we had about you– and which the Ministry still thinks is the only thing we know – it would be only logical," Kingsley smiled. "But yeah, Hagrid joining Dumbledore is pretty much a given, especially when you consider why he was actually sacked."

Remus entered the kitchen, a much more awake expression on his face. He smiled when he saw Kingsley.

"Good morning," he said. "I didn't expect to see you here so early."

"It's half past twelve, Moony," Sirius said quietly. Remus looked at the clock in surprise.

"Okay, so early in the afternoon," he corrected. "I didn't know I'd slept for so long."

"I think we all overslept after tonight," Kingsley said. "I've stayed awake for most of the night too."

"Any news on what has happened?" Remus said. "How's McGonagall?"

"It's so typically you to ask for her first, and not Hagrid," Sirius grinned. He handed his friend the letters from Dumbledore, and Remus sat down to read them.

Kingsley looked surprised at the sudden change in their behaviour to each other: for all he knew, the fight between them was still going on. But he said nothing about it – he silently concluded rightly that they must have made up between now and he last time he'd seen them.

"Well," said Remus once he'd finished reading. "Considering the events, it's not too bad or unexpected. Hagrid is safe, Hogwarts is safe, the only one I'm worried about is McGonagall – I hope she'll be alright."

"Of course she will," Kingsley said. "St Mungo's can cure more serious things than that. I'm sure they'll be able to patch her up in no-time."

"Let's just hope that she doesn't come back like Moody, with parts missing," Sirius said.

"Padfoot," Remus said patiently. "She was hit in the chest. What parts would she be missing? Her heart? Her lungs? Her entire chest? I think that even St Mungo's won't be able to fix _that_."

"I don't know, I don't generally think about McGonagall's chest area – "

Kingsley and Remus both flinched. "God, I hate you sometimes," Remus muttered, but in a good-natured kind of way – if that was possible.

" – but now I _am_, let's just not continue this conversation, okay?" Sirius concluded quickly.

"The best idea you've had in years," Remus said. He turned to Kingsley. "Other subject. Why did you wait for us to come down? You must've been waiting since early this morning."

"Only three hours," Kingsley said. "I was waiting for you. You're needed – there's been an important break-through in the Sirius Black case."

"Ooh," said Sirius. "Did you find him?"

Kingsley fixed him with his gaze for a few moments. He said nothing, but Remus and Sirius could almost _see_ him think: _the idiocy I put up with sometimes… _

"No," he said eventually. "I didn't. Anyway, I need Remus to tell me whether he knows any places you would go to, and more details about your past and all that. Basically, I've got to pretend I'm really working on the case instead of covering up that I already know where you are."

"Sure, I'll come," Remus said. He turned to Sirius. "I'll see you again tonight I guess."

"Ask Tonks to come too," Sirius said. "I can use some company."

"Will do."

Kingsley and Remus left Grimmauld Place, leaving Sirius in a far better mood than he had been in weeks. Kingsley commented on this when he and Remus stood on the pavement just outside number twelve, ready to Apparate.

"What on earth has made Sirius so cheerful?" he asked.

"He finally admitted that he had been wrong in this whole argument we'd been having," Remus said. "So we made up, and that's why he's so happy now."

"_Sirius_ admitted he was wrong?" Kingsley said, smiling. He nodded to where the Headquarters of the Order was. "Are you sure it's the real Sirius?"

"Come to think of it," Remus said mock-pensively, "I didn't ask him to do the Super-Secret Handshake. Oh no." He pretended to be shocked.

Kingsley sighed. "Why is it that I like you better when you're in a bad mood?" he asked.

"Come, now," Remus said, patting Kingsley on the shoulder. "Be happy it's only me now, and not Sirius and Tonks too."

"Thank Merlin, else I'd go really mad. But enough nonsense – let's go to the Ministry."

Remus nodded, and seconds later both vanished out of sight.

* * *

Sirius was humming as he rummaged through the kitchen cupboards and the pantry, looking for something to eat for dinner tonight. The past weeks, he hadn't cared what he was eating, usually leaving preparing dinner to Molly, but he thought that maybe tonight he could make something special. Well, with his cooking skills everything he made was 'special', but this time he was planning on it being edible too. 

Noise from upstairs made him pause. It sounded like a loud shriek. It didn't come from the hallway – a good thing too, else it would've woken up his Mother – but from much higher. There was only one cause for it that Sirius could think of: Buckbeak.

"Stupid animal can't even keep quiet," he muttered. He put down the canned peaches he had been holding and ran up the stairs two steps at the time. He was panting when he reached his room and threw the door open.

Buckbeak shrieked at him when he walked in. Blood ran down his flanks, leaking from two large cuts.

"Calm down!" Sirius yelled. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

Buckbeak shrieked again but appeared to recognise the man. He got calmer and allowed Sirius to get near him, to examine the cuts. Sirius carefully touched Buckbeak's flank. The cuts seemed to be made with a small knife or with very sharp fingernails. The place of the cuts, however, made it unlikely that Buckbeak had cut himself accidentally.

"What did you do?" Sirius asked the animal, puzzled. Buckbeak shrieked again but Sirius couldn't understand what he meant – if he meant anything at all.

"Who-ever did this, they've been real bastards," he said. Right at that moment, he heard a soft snickering from just outside the door. He got up quickly and ran onto the landing, but it was empty. He thought he heard a giggling coming from downstairs, but wasn't sure.

"Kreacher, if that's you," he bellowed, "I'm going to punish you so badly it's not even funny anymore." He waited for a reaction somehow, but all that followed his words was complete silence. He figured that he could of course order Kreacher to come, but he wasn't at all up to talking to the accursed house-elf right now, so he walked back in. He patted Buckbeak soothingly on the beak.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll get some towels and warm water and I'll patch you up. Nothing to worry about."

* * *

Kreacher was in the kitchen when Sirius came down about half an hour later. The elf looked malevolently at his master and giggled softly, but said nothing. 

"What are you doing here?" Sirius said disdainfully. "I know you wounded Buckbeak, don't pretend to be innocent. God, the sooner I get rid of you the better."

"Master always knew what was better for Kreacher," Kreacher muttered, bowing deeply. "Master will get what he deserves eventually," he added quietly, "Kreacher is sure, and then Master will be sorry, but it will be too late, foul blood-traitor –"

"Yes, thank you, that was quite enough out of you." Sirius took Kreacher by the rag he wore for a loincloth and threw him up the stairs to the hall. "Go be useful, if you know how."

Kreacher disappeared into the hall, still muttering darkly and occasionally snickering, but Sirius paid no more attention to him. He raked the fire up a little higher and went on with what he had been doing: preparing dinner.

He had just decided to just throw the damned potatoes on the floor, stamp on them and call the result mashed potatoes, when suddenly a burst of flames appeared once more in mid-air, just like it had done last night. A scrap of parchment fell out of it, and Sirius picked it up interestedly. He didn't recognise the handwriting, a spiky scrawl in black ink. The heading, however, clued him in.

_Black,_

_I have had reason to believe you're not at Grimmauld Place. Please report back with assurance that you _are_ where you're supposed to be._

_S. S. _

It was a miracle – even in two sentences he managed to come across as an insufferable git. Sirius wrote on the back of the scrap that he didn't know what Snape was talking about, he was doing exactly as he had been told (for his inner Remus' sake, he left out a sneering 'unlike _some_') and that he hadn't left Headquarters. He then waved his wand. The burst of flames appeared again, and he threw the scrap of parchment in it, clearly saying that it was intended for Severus Snape. The flames and piece of parchment disappeared as soon as he had said it.

That done, he continued cooking dinner, looking forward to Remus' company and hoping that Tonks came too.

* * *

She came, together with Kingsley and Remus. They had a good laugh at Sirius' attempt at dinner, then Kingsley offered to help Sirius out, an offer that was gladly accepted. Tonks and Remus set the table, and in no time they were ready to eat. 

Had all the Weasleys and Harry been there, they wouldn't have had a better time. It was remarkable how Sirius' mood affected the others: when chagrined, the people around him got gloomy too, but now he was cheerful, there didn't seem enough time to laugh, to tease, to enjoy themselves.

When they had finished dinner and done the dishes, Sirius brought out the Butterbeer. It was too light to get really drunk, but they nevertheless got a bit giggly. They were just discussing whether they should just keep sitting here or maybe bring out the playing cards for some insane games, when the door to the kitchen opened and Alastor Moody came stomping down the stairs.

The four immediately sobered up.

"Moody!" Tonks said. "What brings you here?"

"I've visited Minerva McGonagall," Moody said, heavily sitting down on a chair and stretching out his wooden leg with a sigh of relief.

"Oh," Sirius said. They felt a little guilty – none of them had thought about visiting McGonagall. "How is she?"

"Not too good," Moody said. "Nearly unconscious most of the time. They'd only let me in because I was an Auror."

"But they will be able to make her better, right?" Remus asked anxiously.

"They told me they would." Moody eyed the bottles of Butterbeer suspiciously, then uncorked his own flask and took a swig. "And they can work miracles at St Mungo's."

"Good," Remus said. "It would be horrible if she died."

"Especially at the hands of Umbridge, and five Aurors too," Tonks agreed. The others nodded.

They were just agreeing with each other when the abrupt appearance of flames in mid-air made them jump. Like earlier that day, a scrap of parchment fell from it. Sirius took it.

"I bet it's from Snape again," he said. "He wrote to me before."

"Snape wrote to you?" Remus asked, frowning. "Whatever for?"

Sirius shrugged. "Wanted to know if I was still here, for some reason or other." He turned his attention back to the note. "I wonder what he has to whine about this time." His eyes flew along the lines. They widened abruptly as he read, and he jumped to his feet as if bitten by a snake. He cursed loudly and threw the note on the table.

"I can't fucking believe it!" he shouted.

Remus didn't ask him what he was talking about, but instead snatched the note. He read it with Tonks and Kingsley reading over his shoulder. It was indeed from Snape.

_Black,_

_Potter has gone off to the Ministry, believing that you have been taken captive by the Dark Lord. I have reason to believe that he has taken five other students with him. Contact the rest of the Order as fast as you can; Potter needs to be taken out of the Department of Mysteries as soon as possible: it is a trap set up by the Dark Lord, there are Death Eaters waiting for him. Stay behind at Headquarters – Dumbledore can arrive there any moment. _

_HURRY._

_S.S. _

Remus looked up, horrified. "The Department of Mysteries," he said.

"He's supposed to get the prophecy," Sirius said, pacing like a caged animal. "Only he and Voldemort can take it; when he has it the Death Eaters will kill him and take it."

"We must go now," Kingsley said. "There's no time to contact the others."

"Damn right," Sirius said. He already took his wand from his pocket, but Remus stopped him.

"Sirius, _no_," he said sharply. "You know what Snape said."

"Screw Snape! I'm _not_ going to sit on my arse while Harry is in danger," Sirius bellowed.

"Goddamnit, Sirius, _think_," Remus shouted back. It was the argument of a few weeks ago all over again, and Remus was really getting sick of it. He jumped to his feet. "You cannot go running into the Ministry, you'd get arrested at best!"

"What do I care?" Sirius yelled. "Harry could die!"

Remus was so frustrated, he stamped to his friend and shook him roughly. "Can't you see it?" he said almost desperately. "It's a plot to kill Harry. They want to _lure_ him inside. They'd be only more delighted when they can kill you too."

"Fuck, Remus, I know," Sirius said helplessly, pitifully. "But I promised I'd look after Harry. I promised _James_…"

Remus looked at his friend, tears suddenly in his eyes. "Damn you both," he said softly. He couldn't refuse anymore, he just couldn't. "Damn you."

"Can we go?" Tonks said urgently. She, Kingsley and Moody were already ready to go.

"Yes," Remus said. "Give me fifteen seconds to write to Dumbledore."

"No time," Sirius said. "KREACHER!" The others flinched as he bellowed the name, but it worked – a few moments later, the house-elf appeared, eyeing them all with distrust.

"Master called?" he croaked.

"Yes, he did. Dumbledore will be arriving here soon. Tell him that we're off to the Ministry because Harry has been led to believe that _I _am there," Sirius said irritably. "He's gone to the Department of Mysteries. Show Dumbledore Snape's letter if you must."

"Master is going to the Ministry?" Kreacher asked. His eyes glittered.

"Yes, to rescue Harry, not because I'm arrested," Sirius snapped. "Don't get your hopes up."

That done, the five up them hurried up the stairs into the hall. Sirius threw the front door open and ran down the stairs. He didn't even take the time to appreciate that he was outside again after months, he was much too worried about Harry.

"We Apparate," he ordered before Tonks had even closed the door again.

"Go," Remus gave permission, and Sirius was gone as soon as he had said it. Remus followed a fraction of a second later, along with Kingsley, Moody and Tonks. They appeared at the telephone box a moment later. The Ministry was sealed against Apparition – the only ways to enter were the telephone box or the fires in the Atrium. Sirius had already yanked the door open and got inside.

"Hurry," he snarled.

They cramped inside and Sirius called the number. He didn't let the cool voice finish her message but immediately stated their business and their names. The badges clattering into the chute were ignored; the only thing they wanted was to get down already.

Just before the street disappeared out of sight, Remus thought he saw a skeletal horse standing just behind a parked car, looking at them with mild interest. For a moment, a surge of panic went through him – they could not use a bad omen at this time. He glanced at Sirius, but his friend did not seem to have noticed the horse. He decided not to mention it.

The telephone box could not go down fast enough for Sirius. They'd barely arrived in the Atrium when he opened the door and got out, running towards the elevators.

"Come on," he called. "We haven't got a second to loose." He was already pressing the buttons at all the elevators, scolding at the things to hurry up. Remus, Tonks, Kingsley and Moody hurried to catch up with him.

Remus had already noticed that the Atrium was oddly deserted – there was usually a watchwizard present all day round. As they went down with the elevator, he now saw that the rest of the levels were completely empty too. Of course, most employees were now home, but he had expected at least some guards, or maybe even someone working extremely late. But there was nobody.

"Listen," Kingsley said. "We should have a plan – "

"The plan is to take the Death Eaters out and make sure that Harry and the other children are safe," Sirius snapped. "That's all the plan we need." Sirius was standing right in front of the golden grille, ready to get out as soon as they had arrived at the ninth level. Remus was standing right behind him.

Time seemed to slow down for a moment.

Later, this image would appear to have been fixed on Remus' mind. Sirius standing there, his wand clutched in his hand, his other hand on the handle of the grille, a determined frown on his face. The only thing on his mind was Harry, saving Harry, making sure his Godson was alright… That was all that mattered.

The elevator stopped abruptly and Sirius pulled the door open. They entered a long corridor with torches on the wall. Remus had spend many hours here keeping guard, hidden in an Invisibility Cloak. Like during those hours, the rest of the world seemed to have disappeared.

They ran down the corridor towards a black door. Sirius opened it and they ended up in a circular room. There were doors all around with candles between them, the blue light reflected on the marble floor.

Sirius closed the door.

* * *

Sirius would never forgive himself if he came too late. It was all his fault – he should have been more insistent that Harry learn Occlumency. If Harry died now… He didn't dare think of it. If Harry died… he'd die himself. He would have failed – his life would have been useless… 

If Harry died…

* * *

As soon as Sirius had shut the door, the room began to rotate so fast that the blue candles drew blue lines in a circle around them. 

"What's happening?" Tonks asked, fear in her voice. Only Moody had been here before, years ago. They had no idea what to expect.

"Which is the right door?" Remus asked. Sirius' mood was infectious – he was starting to panic himself too.

He had barely said it when the doors stopped again. Sirius didn't hesitate and pulled one open. They saw a large, dark room, except that it wasn't really a room – there seemed to be no floor, no ceiling, no walls, just vast, immense space. To Remus' horrified fascination, he realised it _was_ just space: he saw planets move, encircled by moons; there were stars, and in the middle, almost too bright to look at, the sun.

"Merlin," Kingsley said, just as fascinated, "it's the universe." For a moment, the five of them just looked, transfixed. Sirius was the first to snap out of it. He slammed the door shut.

"Harry's not there," he said. "We need to get on."

As soon as he had shut the door, the circular room began to rotate again. When it stopped, Sirius opened another door. They saw shelves and shelves of clocks, an assortment of Timeturners falling down and getting up again. The room was a mess, tables had been turned upside down and shards of glass littered the floor.

"Harry?" Sirius called desperately. No answer. He slammed the door shut again, and the room began to rotate once more.

"This isn't working!" Sirius said frustratedly. "He could be anywhere." He looked around. "We want to find Harry Potter!" he shouted to nobody in particular.

It was as if the room had been waiting for instructions. The doors stopped abruptly, and the one right in front of them opened slightly. Sirius slammed it open and ran into the room.

It was a large room, rectangular, with doors on all sides. Long tables stood in the middle, potions were quietly bubbling. There was no light except that coming from the fires under the cauldrons. Mountains of glass bottles and intricate constructions of glass pipes covered the tables.

Sirius paid no attention to what was in the room. He ran to the other side, where another door had opened slightly.

"Be careful!" Moody warned them all as they ran through the room. "This is a dangerous place. Do not touch anything you don't absolutely have to touch! Stay away from any doors or passages you don't have to go to! Especially in the Death Chamber!" Sirius didn't seem to hear it. He pushed the door open and burst through it, the other four on his heels.

* * *

He nearly keeled over. It was a large rectangular room, a sort of arena, it seemed, with stone steps descending to a centre. There was a dais in the middle with an archway on it. A grey veil hung from it, fluttering softly, kindly almost. Welcoming. 

Sirius ignored it. Right down there, on the dais, was Harry. A group of Death Eaters was standing in half a circle before him.

_Harry,_ he thought. _I'm here. You're saved. Don't worry. I'll take care of this…_

* * *

Tonks was the first to send a spell, right at Lucius Malfoy. He was taken by surprise, as were the other Death Eaters as the five members of the Order of the Phoenix ran down the steps, continuously sending spells at them. The Death Eaters were forced into a defensive position. 

Without discussing it, acting on instinct, Remus, Sirius, Tonks, Kingsley and Moody split up, each taking on a Death Eater. Kingsley took on two at a time, Moody was soon locked in a duel with Dolohov, Sirius was the farthest down, duelling more furiously than he had ever done. Remus himself was duelling a Death Eaters at least a head taller than he himself was. He had just managed to Stun the man and saw him crash to the ground when he caught sight of the woman Tonks was duelling with.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

For a moment, he could do nothing but look, transfixed. She moved with a feline grace, sending curses at Tonks in an almost leisurely way. Like Sirius, she had long black hair that hung loose on her back, and like Sirius her face was gaunt, an obsessed flicker in her eyes. But Remus could see the woman she had once been, a formidable opponent, a member of the house of Black, the purest blood in the country, a force to be reckoned with. Beautiful. Deadly. For less than a second – a moment between two curses – she looked at him, she'd felt him look. A smirk flitted across her face, triumphantly, tauntingly.

The next moment, she went at Tonks with doubled strength, slowly forcing her backwards. She let out a maniacal laugh as Tonks was forced into a defensive position.

Remus looked across the room. Jets of light were everywhere. Kinsgley had taken out one of his opponents and was now duelling the one left. Sirius was duelling with Dolohov now, trying to get him away from Harry and Neville. Remus frantically looked to find Moody, and finally saw him lying on the floor near Sirius, his head bleeding, his eyes closed, his hand with his wand limply on the floor.

He ran down the stone steps to help Sirius, ducking for the curses flying right over his head. When he was halfway through the steps, Sirius suddenly began running towards him. Remus looked over his shoulder to see what had happened, just in time to see Tonks fall down the stairs, unconsciously, rolling from step to step.

Bellatrix stood triumphantly laughing higher above her, then turned around and began running up the steps. Sirius rushed past Remus and began running up the steps too, pursuing his cousin.

"Take care of Harry," he shouted in passing. He was gone before Remus could even react.

He turned round again and ran further. He knew Harry and Neville were near the dais, and he frantically tried to find them in the haze of dust and spells. He found them just in time – Lucius Malfoy was standing ready to kill them.

Harry blew Malfoy off his back with a well-placed _Impedimenta_. The Death Eater crashed back into the dais. He recovered quickly; snarling, he pointed his wand at the two boys.

Remus jumped between Malfoy and Harry and waved his wand so fast he heard it whistle. Malfoy was thrown sideways, got up again and attacked, a scowl on his face, ready to kill.

* * *

It was her. Bellatrix. Sirius had only realised she was there when he saw her duel with Tonks. From that moment on, she seemed to be always in his conscience – he was duelling with other Death Eaters, but at the same time he knew exactly where she was. He knew she was just as aware of his presence. 

It was a matter of honour. Family honour. Tonight, the two sides of the family Black, the side that followed Dumbledore and the side that followed Voldemort, would finally take on each other. Sirius was determined to kill her, to finally wipe out her side, to cut away the infested branch.

And he knew she was just as determined to kill _him_.

* * *

Malfoy duelled with the air of a desperate man, a man who had nothing to loose. He threw curses almost faster than Remus could block them, and he needed every bit of his concentration just to stay alive. Thus, he didn't notice Dumbledore's arrival until Malfoy did. 

The Death Eater was noticeably thrown off-balance for a moment. Genuine fear flickered in his eyes as he looked up the steps. He knew the case was lost.

Remus took advantage of his distraction to send a Stunning Spell at him – it hit Malfoy squarely in the stomach and send him flying backwards, unconscious. Remus threw a full body-bind after him for good measure. He had already forgotten about Malfoy as soon as he had turned around. Relief surged through him as he saw Dumbledore run down the steps: they were saved.

Dumbledore did single-handedly what three Aurors hadn't even managed. One of the few Death Eaters left tried to flee, but Dumbledore pulled him back with his wand as effortlessly as a child gathering his toys together. The others were just as easily taken care of.

The only ones still fighting, on the dais, were Sirius and Bellatrix Lestrange. Remus raised his wand and walked towards it to join Sirius, to help him.

* * *

It was insane, perhaps, and maybe he himself was insane, he didn't know. But Sirius finally felt alive. He hadn't felt like this since the first war, when he had been twenty-one, fifteen years ago. As he flashed his wand almost like one would do a broadsword, he felt his blood rush through his veins. He could hear his heart beating, triumphant music in his head seemed to drawn out the noise from the fighting, the only thing he saw was the woman in front of him. 

They were an equal match, and both knew it. She was taunting him, trying to find his weaknesses, and he immediately copied her method and improved it. They were duelling with words as much as with wands.

"Don't worry, Sirius," she said, a smirk on her face, "it won't be long now before you can join your little Gryffindor friends."

"I'd like to see you try!" he called back, sending a Stunner at him which she skilfully deflected. She screamed in frustration and send a jet of red light his way. He ducked quickly, laughing.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he said, taunting her.

He had never felt as alive as he did now.

* * *

Remus saw him take the hit. A red jet of light, squarely on the chest. 

Sirius' eyes widened in shock. He staggered backwards, long strands of hair fluttering in the movement. Bellatrix screamed in victory as her cousin fell. Slowly.

He fell.

Remus screamed himself too, although he didn't even realise it. He ran towards the dais, futilely trying to stop Sirius, hoping that he would be in time although he knew with heartbreaking certainty that he would never be.

Sirius never got the chance to regain his balance. He crashed down on the dais, slid to the archway and disappeared behind the veil. He was gone.

Remus stopped abruptly. His body realised it was too late, but his mind seemed to be too numb to wrap itself around the fact that it couldn't be helped, it could never be helped.

_Stay away from any doors or passages you don't have to go to! Especially in the Death Chamber! _Moody's warning echoed in his mind. The sound was turned off, time slowed down, he could do nothing but look at the gently fluttering veil.

Footsteps got louder behind him. He turned around and saw Harry rushing towards the dais. Instinctively, he reached out to hold the boy back.

As they practically crashed into each other, the sound was suddenly turned back again, but twice as hard it seemed. Life painfully continued, and the realisation of what has just happened almost made Remus pass out. But he couldn't – he had to take care of Harry…

"There's nothing you can do, Harry –" he told the boy as much as himself.

Harry didn't seem to listen. "Get him, save him, he's only just gone through," he pleaded, stretching out his hand to the dais.

" – it's too late, Harry."

"We can still reach him – " Harry fought against Remus' grip, but Remus wouldn't let go. He felt much better with his back towards the dais – he could ignore it now, pretend it just wasn't there. He only had to keep Harry away from it, Harry going there would make it all too real.

But it was real. He knew it. He could pretend it wasn't, but he would have to face it. He would have to get through this. Somehow. He would have to be strong, if only for Harry's sake.

"There's nothing you can do, Harry…" he said to the boy, still struggling to keep him on his place. "Nothing… he's gone."

"He hasn't gone!" Harry protested. "SIRIUS!" he yelled, "SIRIUS."

"He can't come back, Harry." Harry's insistence that Sirius wasn't dead made it only more painful for Remus himself. With every word he spoke, he felt like he was driving a knife further into his flesh. "He can't come back, because he's d– "

"HE – IS – NOT – DEAD," Harry shouted to Remus and the dais. "SIRIUS."

Remus began dragging the boy back, away from the dais. Harry still fought furiously, both against Remus and against what he didn't want to realise was true.

Neville had slid down the stone steps towards Remus and Harry. His nose was swollen and bled violently, his legs were dancing frantically because of a spell, but he did not seem to care.

"Harry?" he said. "Harry… I'b really sorry… Was dad man – was Sirius Black a – a friend of yours?"

Harry nodded wordlessly. He had given up struggling Remus' grip, but Remus held his arm just to be sure.

"Here," Remus said quietly. He pointed his wand at Neville's legs. "_Finite_." They stopped dancing. "Let's – let's find the others," he suggested, aware that he had to give himself something to do, something to think about before he went mad. Behind him, he could hear Kingsley and Bellatrix duel, but he didn't dare to look. It would mean looking at the archway too. "Where are they all, Neville?"

"Dey're all back dere," Neville said, pointing up the stone steps. "A brain addacked Ron bud I dink he's all righd – and Herbione's unconscious, bud we could feel a bulse – "

There was a loud bang behind him. Remus had turned around before he could help himself. Kingsley fell down, yelling in pain. Bellatrix immediately turned around and ran, trying to save her skin. Dumbledore tried to pull her back with a spell, but she deflected it, halfway up the steps.

Harry took his chance.

"Harry – no!" Remus yelled as Harry freed himself and ran after Bellatrix.

"SHE KILLED SIRIUS!" he shouted furiously, "SHE KILLED HIM – I'LL KILL HER!"

"HARRY!" Remus shouted once more, but in vain. Harry had already disappeared. _Oh God_, he thought, but he didn't say it. He didn't have the time to think about what he was feeling, about what had happened, about S–

"Are you alright?" he asked Neville. The boy nodded, blood splattering everywhere.

"Yes," he said. "Help de odhers."

This was something Remus could do. Helping was a good thing. He sat Neville down on the steps and tore a piece off one of the Death Eaters' robes. He gave the cloth to Neville and told him to stop the bleeding, then he walked up the steps towards where Neville had pointed.

The large rectangular room was a mess. The floor was covered with shards of glass, greenish goo and shattered furniture. He first checked on Hermione, who was unconscious but still alive. Ginny seemed just woken up. He concluded that her ankle was broken, but otherwise she seemed to be fine. He discovered Luna Lovegood behind a table. When he asked her if she could remember what had happened, she could only make soft groaning sounds, staring up at him with her large eyes. The one that worried him the most was Ron. The red-haired boy was lying on the floor with what almost seemed like a cauliflower in his hands. Long strands of something were wrapped around his arms. Ron didn't seem to mind this very much: he was giggling softly. Only occasionally did he twitch, as if he was struggling something. Remus kneeled down next to him, but he couldn't think of what to do. Undoubtedly he had read about this somewhere, but he just couldn't remember it. His mind had gone numb, he knew nothing. He let Ron for what he was and walked back to the room with the dais. He sat down on the threshold of the door leading towards the Death Chamber and looked down.

Dumbledore was still there. He quickly put an Anti-Disapparating Jinx on the remaining Death Eaters and checked on Kingsley, Moody and Tonks. When he concluded that they were still alive and not in serious harm, he left them were they were and quickly ran up the stairs. He said nothing to Remus when he passed him, and Remus said nothing to him. He felt too tired to speak.

He was sitting there, alone, with five wounded children behind him and three Aurors and a group of Death Eaters before him, and he could do nothing. He knew he ought to help the children, that he should help Kingsley, who was still groaning with pain after Bellatrix had cursed him, but he remained where he was. He was watching the veil in the archway flutter softly, though there was no wind to move it. The sight of it was peaceful, soothing, like watching the sea. He told himself that he had to get up, to help the others. That the peaceful veil down there had swallowed Sirius, that his friend was dead, would never come back…

He remained seated, and he had the feeling that he could sit here for the rest of his life, if only the rest of the world would just stay away…

* * *

The rest of the world never does what you want when you absolutely, desperately want it. About half an hour after Dumbledore had left the Death Chamber, three Aurors walked into the room behind Remus. They were quickly followed by a squad of Healers from St Mungo's, who began taking care of the children and the three Aurors. 

They were far too noisy and busy for Remus' taste. They kept bustling around, carrying stretches down the stairs, arguing loudly over what could have happened, while all he wanted was peace and quiet.

He fled when they began bothering him. Surely he wouldn't just sit there on the threshold doing nothing if there was nothing wrong with him? A Healer practically began interrogating him, trying to pull answers out of him, but he didn't want to talk. He eventually stammered that there was nothing wrong with him, nothing had happened – and he felt an almost physical pain when he realised what a lie that was. The pain increased when he realised that from now on, there would be nobody to get people off his back in situations like this. He would always have to fend for himself. He was completely alone.

The Healer eventually let him go, and he walked quickly to the elevators to the Atrium, avoiding to look at the mess around him. The children had already been taken away to St Mungo's, the doors in the circular room that led from the Brain Room to the corridor stood wide open, and the Department of Mysteries looked completely harmless. The thought of what happened just an hour before was surreal. He had told the Healers that he would go home, and he did – he went to the house that he now considered home: number twelve Grimmauld Place.

He screwed up his face when he shut the door behind him, seemingly locking the rest of the world out. Here, there was nobody to try and get him to talk, nobody to bother him. He could be completely himself here.

He had to hide.

He quickly walked up the stairs, rushing to his room. He felt like he could collapse any minute now, and he had to be safely hidden somewhere. It was simply impossible for him to get his feelings out if there was even the slightest chance somebody else could see it. When distressed, he didn't lash out, but he withdrew inside himself, crawled into a corner of his mind and coped with it there. When it was something huge that happened, the only thing that helped was to literally hide in a small confined place. In this case, the small space between his bed and the wall. He sat down on the floor and drew his knees to his chest. There was a painful burning feeling in both his eyes and his chest, and his head did not seem to be working properly. His thoughts, normally so organized and intelligent, now spun around one thing which he continuously, expressly told himself not to think about.

Sirius taking that jet of red light on the chest.

_Don't think about that_, he told himself. _Don't think about it. _

His eyes widened in shock – he had believed he was invincible, he always had.

_Don't cry, just don't. Keep yourself together_.

He fell down in a graceful arc, seemingly slowly, although in reality it must not have been five seconds.

_Don't be weak, don't cry._

He fell.

_Don't cry, just don't._

Sirius.

_Don't cry. _


	21. Welcomes and one last farewell

OMG LAST CHAPTER I CAN'T BELIEVE I MADE IT.

Ok, calm now. Yay, last chapter! I nearly cried again at the end of this chapter - I'm getting too weak-hearted. ;)

The quote is from a poem by one James Whitcomb Riley, called "_He is not dead"_. I got it from a Sirius-wallpaper I found... somewhere. Maybe you'd better google for "Sirius wallpaper". ;)

Enjoy! Last chapter! Wheee!

**

* * *

June/July 1996.**

_I cannot say, and will not say_

_That he is dead. He is just away._

* * *

Remus left Grimmauld Place the following morning, well before the morning rush hour had even started. It wasn't a flight – it was merely a withdrawal until he had sorted everything out, until he'd got his life back on track. He needed time to think about what had happened last night, and he knew he would not get that when the rest of the Order found out.

Derbyshire was soothingly calm after London. He hadn't been in his home here for months, and it showed – most of the plants had died, the grass in the backyard needed cutting and there was dust everywhere. He immediately got to work, not only because it needed to be done but also because he knew that if he sat down, he'd only think about Sirius' death all day long, and then there'd be no end to the depression. It was better to do something while thinking – that way it wouldn't be the only thing on his mind, he'd remember that he also needed to go on with his life, as painful as it was. It was a tried and true method, he'd done the same after James and Lily had died. He only hoped it would work as well again this time.

News got to him only sparingly – he consciously avoided it, in keeping with his retreat. The outside world didn't interest him at the moment. The only concession he made was when he bought a _Sunday Prophet_ on Saturday, to see if 'it' had made the newspapers.

It had – in a way. Of course there was nothing about Sirius' death, nobody except the Order of the Phoenix and a handful of Death Eaters even knew Sirius Black had been at the Department of Mysteries. Instead, the first ten pages or so of the _Sunday Prophet_ were filled with what Remus had completely missed: Voldemort had shown up at the Ministry of Magic. Better yet: Fudge had seen him with his own eyes, just before he Disapparated, taking a woman – Bellatrix – with him. Fudge could now no longer deny that Harry had been telling the truth, You Know Who really was back. He immediately raised the highest alarm, told the people in the magical world in Britain to be on their guards and promised them that the Ministry would do everything to catch the Dark Lord. In the meantime, they'd send leaflets to everybody with instructions on how to protect themselves.

Remus was glad that Fudge at last admitted he'd been wrong – of only it hadn't taken such a sacrifice… He immediately cut that thought off and began doing something else. If he started moping now and feeling sorry for himself, there'd be no end of it and he'd get nowhere.

After a week of solitude, letters from the Order of the Phoenix started coming in. Clearly they had decided that he was allowed a week of mourning, but he was supposed to come back now.

But he didn't feel ready for it yet. He was glad of the news the letters brought him – especially Minerva McGonagall being back at Hogwarts, the children being fine and Dumbledore being Headmaster again – but he didn't feel up to meeting the writers in person. Not yet so he wrote his parents and, after receiving the asked-for permission, moved back in with them. Again he told himself that this wasn't a flight from anything, but merely a much-needed time-out.

* * *

"You do know that's my favourite chair, don't you?" Julia asked.

"Hm-hm," Remus said. It was his favourite chair too – a wooden deckchair made comfortable with a blanket and pillows.

"Well, as long as we got that clear," she muttered slightly sarcastically. He didn't react.

"Anyway," she continued, "it's a good thing you're here now. I'm going to get my hair cut, and now I won't have to bring the children to the neighbours since you can keep an eye on them."

Silence.

"Afterwards, I'm going to my boyfriend – I'm cheating on Romulus," she tried. Remus didn't even look at her. "We sacrifice kittens together," she made up on the spot. _Where-ever he is with his thoughts, it's not here_, she thought. She knelt down next to him and whispered in his ear: "I love you."

He jumped – although more from the sudden blast of her breath in his ear than from her words. "What?"

"Either you're really selectively deaf, or you're not yourself," she said. "Remus, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," he said.

"Oh please, like I'm believing _that_," she said. "You suddenly show up, spend entire days here without saying a word, you're not even listening to what I say, and there's nothing wrong? You have to try better than that."

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times," Remus said irritably. "There is nothing, okay? Stop nagging me."

He was so different from Romulus, Julia pondered. With his brother, it was easy. You had to ask it only once: he'd deny there was anything wrong and then he'd blurt it all out anyway. Romulus just couldn't keep it in if something was distressing him. Remus on the other hand was a master at that. If he didn't want to tell you, he wouldn't tell you, no matter what you did.

"Alright, fine," she said. "Then don't tell me. I'll find out anyway."

"Good luck," he said sceptically.

"I'm just going to pretend you meant that in a nice way. Anyway, could you look after the children?"

He looked up at her. "What? Why? Where're you going?"

"I just told you," she said exasperatedly. "I'm going to get my hair cut."

"Oh. Okay."

She waited a few more moments to hear if he had anything more to say, but he hadn't. she shrugged and walked away – _suit yourself. _She came back a few minutes later with Ralph in her arms. "Listen," she said. "You listening? I'm going now. Could you – " she put the baby unceremoniously in his lap, " – make sure that Ralph eats all of this?" She also handed him a few soft breadcrusts. "He likes them, so I think it won't be much of a problem. Just be sure he doesn't drop them in the sand, picks them up again and eats them."

"Okay," he said, taking the crusts.

"Good." She left.

Remus slowly fed his nephew the crusts, already lost in thoughts again – he didn't even notice that Ralph was crumbling all over his lap.

Why couldn't people just accept it if he didn't want to talk? First the Order, then his mother – he had gone to Romulus go get away from her constant questions – and now his sister-in-law too.

Ralph made soft bubbling noises and blew spit-bubbles. Remus handed him the next breadcrust.

He just needed some time for himself, but nobody seemed willing to give it to him. Sometimes he wished he was living in a desert. _Or maybe I should just become one of those philosophers or gurus who live on pillars_, he thought. _Except that I don't know much about philosophy or religion._

When Julia came back half an hour later, Remus hadn't moved from his chair. She sighed. She liked Remus, she really did, but she thought he was too difficult to deal with. At least with Romulus, it was fairly obvious what was going on in his mind. With Remus, you could only guess.

She walked into the backyard. "I'm back," she announced. "Is everything alright here?"

"We're fine," Remus said. "Ralph has eaten everything."

"Thirza hasn't given any trouble?" Julia asked, looking at her daughter, who was currently making sand-pies in the sand pit.

"No. Silvia has died, though," Remus said, referring to Thirza's maltreated rag-doll, "so she buried her."

"Oh great, then I'll have to wash her again." Yesterday, Thirza, being currently obsessed with burying thing in the sand, had pretended to be at the beach, and she'd covered her doll with sand like her father had done to her the weekend before, when they'd gone to the beach.

"Are you eating here tonight?" Julia asked Remus. He nodded. "Okay. We're eating lasagna, if you're curious."

He wasn't. She went inside, to the kitchen, and had just prepared the tomato sauce when the doorbell rung. She sighed. Only three weeks before they went on vacation, she reminded herself. She didn't know why she looked forward to it – camping with two small children always seemed to be a taste of hell – but the word alone was comforting.

When she opened the door, she saw a young woman with bright pink hair.

"Hello," she said. "I'm Nymphadora Tonks. I'm looking for Remus. Is he here?"

* * *

Remus jerked abruptly upright when he saw Tonks. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Nice to see you too," she said coolly. "I've been looking everywhere for you. I was lucky that I met your brother at the Ministry." She looked him up and down. "Well, are you coming with?"

He couldn't think of a good enough reason to refuse, so he handed Ralph to Julia and said goodbye. When they'd got out on the street, they began walking in no particular direction.

"Why were you looking for me?" Remus asked accusingly. "Can't people just leave me alone?"

"Remus, you're gone for two weeks now," Tonks said. "Nobody knew where you were. Our letters didn't come back, but we didn't get an answer either, and when we went to Derbyshire, you were already gone."

"I just needed some time for myself, okay?" he said irritably.

"I can understand that, but cutting yourself off from the rest of the world is going too far!"

"Listen, I just didn't want tot talk to anybody, and I still don't want to!" he snapped.

"Didn't it even occur to you that we might want to talk to _you_? Remus, you're hardly the only one who lost someone dear when Sirius died, you know!" Her voice had got sharper as she spoke, and she was glaring at him by the end of her sentence. "Do you have any idea what it might have meant to _me_, to name someone? I too got Sirius back after fourteen years! And I too lost him now! God, Remus, don't you dare claim that you're the only one who has the right to grief! God." She turned away for a moment to wipe her eyes. "Aren't you even thinking of us?"

"Of course I do," he said, coolly.

"Well it sure doesn't seem like it! You spend the last two weeks hiding somewhere, and now I've finally found you, you're all 'oh, woe is me, why can't the world just leave me alone!'" She dramatically put a hand on her forehead. "Come on, Remus, grow a spine."

"See, this is exactly why I avoided you all! You're finally found me, you just burst into my private life, and you immediately begin accusing me!"

"I'm not _accusing_ you, I'm telling you the truth! Really, Remus, we're all very sorry for you, but two weeks of grieving when you were such a level-headed person before…"

"What gives you the right to decide how I cope with my grief?" he shouted.

"What gives _you_ the right to take away our chance to help you by being there for you?" she shouted back.

"You couldn't have helped anyway."

"That's what _you_ think," she said. "And yeah, if you lock yourself up I can imagine that you're not coping too well with your grief."

"Screw it," he said roughly. "I just don't – want – to – talk – to – you. Understood?" He turned around sharply and began walking away.

"No!" she yelled after him. "Stop walking away!"

"Bye, Tonks." He waved over his shoulder at her.

"Get back you stupid, stubborn, thick-headed… thick-headed…"

He turned around. "Yes?" he said sarcastically.

"Thick-headed _Sirius_!"

They stared at each other, both surprised by what she'd just said.

"What?" Remus said eventually.

"Well, it's true," she said defiantly. "You're just as stubborn as Sirius now. Except he usually didn't run away."

"I'm not running away," he said.

"Oh no? Then what are you doing? Is this a tactical withdrawal or something?"

He opened his mouth to reply sharply, but couldn't think of a good answer. "Um," he said.

"Hm?" She raised one eyebrow just like Snape could. It made him laugh.

"Okay, maybe you're right," he said.

"Of course I am. I'm always right." She raised her chin proudly, then laughed. She practically skipped over to him and took his arm. "Better now?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"Good. Be sure to tell Kingsley how I convinced you to come back though, he didn't believe I could do it."

"How is Kingsley?" he asked.

She sighed. "Well, I suppose that he could be considered fine, but he's had a fair beating. Bellatrix Lestrange got him good, and there's that little problem of him having to find Sirius, which has just got twice as difficult."

Remus could imagine it being difficult for Kingsley. "And the others?" he asked.

"Shaken, of course. It's the first person who died," she said softly. "And most of us weren't in the Order the first time around. It's come fairly unexpected too. And do you know who betrayed Sirius?" she asked, now sounding vicious.

"No, who?"

"Kreacher."

Remus was shocked. "But… he's a house-elf! He can't betray his master, it's impossible."

"Apparently it is if they have _two_ masters. It turns out that apparently Sirius once worded an order very unfortunately when he told Kreacher to get out – so Kreacher got out, out of the house, that is, and went straight to my dear aunt Narcissa, who's married to Lucius Malfoy, as you might know. Narcissa's a Black, so Kreacher could freely tell everything he hadn't been expressly forbidden to tell further, to her. And that's how You-Know-Who found out that the best way to get Harry to the Department of Mysteries was to pretend to have kidnapped Sirius."

"And as an added bonus, they undoubtedly knew that Sirius would come to Harry's rescue," Remus added bitterly. "That would kill two birds with one stone."

"Exactly. The plan didn't work as well as he'd hoped – Harry is still alive, and the prophecy, which the Death Eaters were supposed to take from him and bring to You-Know-Who, has shattered."

"Shattered?" Remus repeated. "The prophecy is gone?"

"Yes. So the mighty weapon has been destroyed, which means no more guard-duty for us!"

"Yeah, but it also means that the prophecy is now forever lost."

"But you and Dumbledore know what it says, don't you?" Tonks asked. "So we know what it's about. What does the exact wording matter, if you know what the meaning is?"

"Very true."

They walked on in silence for a few minutes. Tonks was still holding Remus' arm.

"You know what?" she said. "I missed you, actually."

"You know what?" he answered. "Me too."

"What," she laughed, "you missed yourself?"

He laughed too. "Well, in a way, sort of. But okay, I missed you too."

"Good to know." She fondly pressed his arm.

The next day, Remus packed his suitcase again and moved back into number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He did not go back to his old room, however – there were too many memories of Sirius there. Instead, he now slept in one of the guest rooms. Tonks took over taking care of Buckbeak. Together, they tried to be a sort of replacement-Sirius, often unknowingly imitating his humour, his outspokenness and his uncompromised loyalty.

* * *

King's Cross Station was swarming with people on the day the Hogwarts students were expected back. Backpackers and commuters both tried to find their way through the crowd towards the underground. And in the midst of it all were Remus, Tonks, Moody and Arthur, Molly, Fred and George Weasley.

Molly had written to Fred and George in tears after she'd found out that Sirius had died. She couldn't bear the thought that she might die too before she'd forgiven the twins, so she'd decided to forgive them right now. The twins had heartily welcomed it.

Molly prodded her husband. "Can you see them already?"

"Not yet, dear," Arthur repeated what he had said many times before. "It's too early now."

"Nonsense, they can be here any minute," she insisted. She stood on tiptoe trying to see the children before Arthur did – on tiptoe, she came to his shoulder, so this was pretty useless.

Tonks grinned. "It's no use trying to find them in this crowd," she said.

"You know how mothers are," Remus said to her, "they always know it better than you do."

"Oh, do I know it," she replied, laughing.

In this case, though, Molly was right: she did see her children first. "There they are!" she said, hurrying over to them. She embraced Ron and Ginny tightly, then hugged Harry too. Ron, however, was occupied with something completely else: the twin's jackets.

"What are _they _supposed to be?" he asked, pointing at the jackets.

"Finest dragonskin, little bro'," Fred said proudly. "Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves." Ron didn't seem to be able to believe his ears.

Molly had let go of Harry, and Remus took his chance. "Hello, Harry," he said.

Harry looked at him. "Hi," he said, sounding amazed. "I didn't expect… what are you all doing here?"

"Well," Remus smiled, "we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home." It had been Remus' and Tonks' idea, and the entire Order had readily agreed with it.

"I dunno if that's a good idea," said Harry uncertainly.

"Oh, I think it is," Moody cut in. "That'll be them, will it, Potter?" He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb; he had already caught sight of the Dursleys with the help of his magical eye. Harry looked over Moody's shoulder and nodded.

"Ah, Harry." Arthur had just greeted Hermione's parents, and now turned to Remus, Moody and Harry. "Well – shall we do it, then?" he asked.

"Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur," said Moody. He set off towards the Dursleys, the rest of the welcoming group in tow. Hermione even left her parents to follow the others.

The Dursleys looked terribly frightened when they saw the wizards approach. Their welcome wasn't even that scary, Remus thought. Polite, really.

"Good afternoon," Arthur said pleasantly. "You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley." Judging by the rapid change of colour in Vernon Dursley's face, he did remember Arthur.

"We thought we'd just have a few words with you about Harry," Arthur continued.

"Yeah," Moody added. "About how he's treated when he's at your place."

This sat not well with Mr Dursley. He stretched himself out a little, trying to look imposing. "I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house –" he began haughtily.

"I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley," growled Moody.

"Anyway, that's not the point," Tonks cut in. "The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry –"

"– And make no mistake, we'll hear about it," Remus added.

"Yes," came Arthur, "even if you won't let Harry use the fellytone –"

"_Telephone," _Hermione corrected in a whisper.

"– Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer

to," Moody finished.

This was going too far. These loonies seemed to think they could order him, Vernon Dursley. His face turned an even deeper shade of red. "Are you threatening me, sir?" he said loudly.

Moody was not impressed, rather delighted that Vernon had understood them so quickly. "Yes, I am," he said.

"And do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?" Mr Dursley continued.

"Well…" said Moody mock-thoughtfully. He pushed back his bowler hat and revealed his magical eye. Vernon Dursley leaped back in shock, colliding with a luggage trolley. Moody grinned. "Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley." He decided that Mr Dursley had been intimidated enough, and he turned to Harry. "So, Potter… give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along…" Petunia Dursley did not seem to like this promise, but Moody did not care. "Bye, then, Potter," said Moody, and he shook Harry by the shoulder for a moment.

"Take care, Harry," Remus said quietly. "Keep in touch."

"Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can," Molly was next. She hugged him again.

Ron shook Harry's hand. "We'll see you soon, mate."

"Really soon, Harry," Hermione added. We promise.'

Harry nodded and smiled. He seemed lost for words, and Remus could completely understand him. Harry raised his hand and waved, then he turned around and walked out of the station, the Dursleys hurrying after him.

The others left too. The Weasleys went back to the Burrow, Hermione and her parents left for their house, Moody went to the Ministry. Soon, Remus and Tonks were the only ones left.

"What are we going to do now?" Tonks asked Remus. "Ministry? Grimmauld Place? Get a drink in Diagon Alley?"

"The Ministry, I guess," Remus said. "I reckon Kingsley might need help, or else there's always something we can do."

"Yeah, true. There's always work to do." She looked up at him. "Shall we go?"

"Erm, you go ahead, I… have something else to do first."

She eyed him suspiciously. "You're not going to disappear again, are you?"

He smiled. "No, trust me."

"Good. If you _are_, I'm going to find you again and stick one of those Muggle tracking devices on you so I'll never loose you again."

"I'll keep you to it."

They said goodbye, and Tonks left. Remus stood still for a few more moments in the middle of the station, under the high ceiling. He had lied – he hadn't need to do anything. He just wanted to be alone for a while.

He walked to the exit of the station, to street level. He passed the bookstore, the snackbar, the money exchange office, and saw it all, smiling. When Sirius had just died, it had seemed that he had never been there, that all his memories of him had been a dream, somehow. But now, almost a month later, it was exactly the opposite. Sirius wasn't gone – he was still here. Remus just couldn't see him, but that was alright, he was still aware of him. As he looked around him, he had the feeling that Sirius had taken place inside his head, and he could hear his reaction to everything he saw. He heard his friend's comments about the business men with suitcases walking past, he heard him reminiscing about past holidays when he passed the backpackers eating sandwiches, and he smiled when he almost literally heard Sirius' barking laugh when he saw an amusing advertisement.

He stopped for the traffic light. Yes, he thought hopefully, even though Sirius was gone, and he'd never again be able to talk to him again, he'd still be here, somehow.

The traffic light turned green.

Remus walked on.

_I cannot say, and will not say_

_That he is dead. He is just away._

_With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand,_

_He has wandered into an unknown land._

_And left us dreaming how very fair_

_It needs must be, since he lingers there._

_And you – oh, you, who the wildest yearn_

_For an old-time step, and the glad return,_

_Think of him faring on as dear_

_In the love of There as the love of Here._

_Think of him still as the same. I say_

_He is not dead – he is just away._

FIN


	22. Odds and ends

I almost forgot to do my usual 'closing chapter' - one that hasn't got much to do with the story itself. An interview seemed to be getting kind of old, and I was having trouble making up questions anyway, so instead I present this jumble of odds and ends - deleted quotes, alternate endings and trivia. There are some spoilers for HBP, especially one plotthingy, but nothing really mayorly important, like who dies and stuff. Italics are my own comments, normal font is... normal story.

I hope you like it!

* * *

**Alternate endings**

_#1 – the depressing ending._

Remus stopped for the traffic light. Yes, he thought hopefully, even though Sirius was gone, and he'd never again be able to talk to him again, he'd still be here, somehow.

The traffic light turned green.

Remus walked on.

He never saw the double-decker bus, and it was probably a good thing too as it hit him at full force. The last thing he saw was the snackbar on the opposite side of the street, a flash of blue sky, then nothing for a moment.

Then darkness.

Then light.

Then Sirius, James – Sirius glaring at him.

"Bloody hell, Moony, we weren't supposed to see each other again _this _soon!"

_

* * *

#2 – the romantic ending (made up before HBP, I swear!)_

They walked on in silence for a few minutes. Tonks was still holding Remus' arm.

"You know what?" she said. "I missed you, actually."

"You know what?" he answered. "Me too."

"What," she laughed, "you missed yourself?"

He laughed too. "Well, in a way, sort of. But okay, I missed you too."

"Good to know." She fondly pressed his arm. "How much?"

"How much what?"

"How much did you miss me?"

He stopped walking. "How much I missed you?"

"Yeah." She looked up at him, her expression unfathomable.

"An inordinate amount. I can't possibly express how much." It was true, he now realised. He _had_ missed her more than anyone else. Of all the members of the Order of the Phoenix, she was the one he most enjoyed spending time with. Her sometimes odd sense of humour, her constant cheerfulness – in a way, it was very much like having the Marauders back.

"Try," she pressed on.

"Try…" he sighed. How to go about it? He looked at her, her heart-shaped face turned towards him, smiling. Her violently pink hair would have looked weird on most people, but with her it fit. In fact, she looked quite pretty on the whole. And he couldn't _believe_ he was thinking about her appearance in that way, right now. She was Tonks. Not a young woman of whom you think in terms of "pretty" – even though she undeniable was just that. Pretty. But he shouldn't think it. And he was definitely getting tangled in his own thoughts. "I can't find the words," he said somewhat lamely. "Or only the wrong words."

"Let me help you," she said, firmly taking the lead. It was pretty clear to her that if she waited for him, they would get nowhere. "Remus, I missed you this much."

She kissed him.

"Well," Remus said, blinking, as they finally parted. "That… sounds about right."

_Or maybe I should just make this the real ending…_

**

* * *

Deleted quotes**

_Sirius' last wishes._

"Besides getting laid?"

"Obviously…"

See the sunrise over the hills at Hogwarts one last time, like they used to when they were still students.

* * *

_A quote for Remus to use in a conversation, shamelessly nicked from an interview with... someone, I once read._

"Someone once said that the angels in heaven play Bach, but in their free time they play Mozart."

* * *

_Conversation between Remus and his mother about him being a werewolf._

"If you could go back in time, if you could stop it the werewolf, would you?"

"Oh God, yes, absolutely!"

Life with a werewolf as a child was difficult because he was suffering so much pain that she couldn't take away.

* * *

_A little scene with Remus, Sirius and Tonks at 12 Grimmauld Place. Both Remus and Tonks are suffering... 'monthly problems' and Sirius is being annoying. As usual. First person talking is Remus, second is Tonks._

Sirius was humming his own composition called 'glad to be a man'.

"Tonks, would you be _very_ sorry if you woke up tomorrow and you found Sirius murdered in his bed?"

"Yes, because _I _want to kill him!"

* * *

_Conversation between Remus and Sirius after Remus found out Sirius asked Harry to call him Snuffles._

"Why Snuffles? Why not Padfoot?"

"Because… because Padfoot is a… a you-word. A Prongs-word."

* * *

_A scene I meant to put in somewhere either during the summer vacation or the Christmas chapter - when the Weasleys were at 12 Grimmauld Place at any rate. Sadly, I completely forgot about it. Remus and Sirius are in the hallway, and the twins are just walking up the stairs... First person talking is Remus._

"Oh, by the way, Padfoot –"

Fred stopped abruptly, halfway up the stairs. His twin walked right into him and they nearly tumbled down the stairs. They barely seemed to notice this, however; they were staring wide-eyed at Sirius.

"Padfoot? _The_ Padfoot?"

"..?"

"Marauder's Map Padfoot?" Fred insisted.

"Oh, yes."

They ogled at him. "We've met one of our gods," George whispered.

"Map?" Sirius said innocently. "What map?" He winked at Remus. "Do you have any idea what they're on about, Moony?"

* * *

_Little scene with Remus and Tonks after Sirius' death, originally meant to be put before they go and pick Harry up from King's Cross, but never put it because of lack of time._

Tonks handed him his coat. "Here you are… Moony…"

Remus trembled for a moment, as though she had hit him. "Remus," he said. "I'm Remus."

* * *

Sirius' name for Dumbledore's Army: the little Phoenixes.**

* * *

Sirius Trelawney**

_Honestly, Sirius should turn his last name to Trelawney. I joked about it in "RemusLupin" (way, WAY back), but rereading "Wolf's Fight" made me laughand sometimes look extremely weirdly at the times that Sirius joked about something - only to have it come true in HBP! The odd thing is, most of these occured during the Christmas chapter, or in relation to Christmas... Apparently Christmas enhances the power of the Inner Eye or something..._

* * *

_This was rather amusing in light of HBP - just you wait one year, Remus..._

"I found out who's going to be the next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Sirius said.

"Really? Who is it? How is it bad? Or, rather, how bad is it? It's not Lucius Malfoy, is it?" Remus said.

Sirius shook his head.

"Oh God, don't let it be Snape."

Sirius sighed. "Remus, it's Dolores Umbridge."

Remus gaped.

"Sorry."

"_Sorry_?" Remus repeated. "_Sorry? _Whoever is responsible for this is going to be _sorry_! God, I wish it had been Snape! Whatever was Dumbledore thinking? Really, I know I owe a lot to him and stuff, but – "

* * *

_Rereading the Christmas chapter in HBP... I wasn't far off!_

"It's just wrong, you know. Liking the people at the Werewolf Capture Unit. It's like… it's like liking Snape!"

"I like Snape," Remus said softly. Sirius' eyes widened in horror.

"No you don't!"

"Well, sometimes."

"Exactly. You _sometimes_ like Snape. You like him, what, five seconds every six months. You like him for five seconds until he says something ridiculous or insulting again, and then you're back to disliking him." Sirius gave a fake gasp. "Oh my God, Remus, you like Snapefor _ten whole seconds a year_!"

* * *

_I invented Vanishing Cabinets before Draco came up with it:_

Sirius walked out of the room and quickly descended the stairs, to the kitchen. He had hoped to find an easier way to get six floors down – perhaps a closet on the top floor that you could walk into, close the door, and when you opened again you were in the kitchen.

* * *

_Uhm, yeah... In light of HBP..._

"Just so you know, I have an appointment tonight," Remus said. "I'd promised somebody to come over to his house, for Halloween." He had send Sirius a letter, just to prepare his friend for any disappointment, but he had planned on trying to go to Grimmauld Place nonetheless.

"Trust me, I wasn't planning on staying here this evening either." Romulus stopped and turned around. "Who're you meeting tonight?"

"I can't remember that being any of your business," Remus said evasively.

"Tied down a girl, have you?" Romulus said, with a most annoying look of amusement in his eyes. He looked rather smug, actually, and superior-feeling, and Remus was suddenly very aware that his younger brother already had a wife and children, and he was still a sad old bachelor, which was not the proper order of things, and it annoyed him to no end.

"I haven't _tied down_ anyone," he said irritable. "And what a horrible expression anyway - it makes me think of cattle."

"Sorry, sorry, I was just asking." Romulus walked on again, but Remus was sure that he had seen an irritating small smile on his brother's face.

"And don't you dare get any funny thoughts," he threatened.

"The thought of thinking anything that's even remotely funny hasn't even begun to contemplate crossing my mind," Romulus replied. He was having difficulty keeping the laughter from his voice.

"Oh yes it has," Remus said darkly. "If Mum sends me an invitation for Christmas dinner, including a _girlfriend_, I know who to hit. Just so you know."

"'t would be a pity of the Christmas spirit, though," Romulus mused.

"Exactly."

* * *

_And this was just me poking fun at the shippers through Sirius. In hindsight, it's Sirius showing his Inner Eye..._

"Now, Moony, think of the Christmas spirit," Sirius reprimanded. "Besides, since when do you two take sides against me? Or…" he suddenly winked, "is there something you want to tell me? Hm?"

* * *

Sirius tried his best to be nice too. He wasn't one for comforting, but he tried, he really did. He poured a cup of tea, added lots of sugar and handed it to her with a slightly sheepish expression on his face.

"Remus is right," he said, "Percy will come round, honestly. Just wait, next Christmas you'll be able to give your presents in person."

**

* * *

Black Family library**

_Books in the Black family library._

Malleus Maleficarum, first edition

The complete works of Aleister Crowley

Macbeth with coloured illustrations

Demon Dictionary

Historica Serpentium et Draconum, by Odysseus Aldrovondus

**

* * *

Trivia**

_Just an assortment of things._

Hazel, one of Romulus' colleagues at the Werewolf Capture Unit, is named after the tree. The wood is said to have magical properties. She's the only one of the Capture Unit to have a name with a story behind it – the others just got the first name that popped into my head.

Right now, the entire story has about 130 pages with an Arial 10 font. That's almost twice as long as 'Remus Lupin' was. I reckon that if it was printed as a book, it'd be about as long as Goblet of Fire…

The first chapter (or, the first bit of the first chapter, because I wrote the introduction and the first paragraph and then didn't continue for another four weeks or so) was written on June 6, 2004. The very last chapter was written – in its entirety – on June 15, 2005, and posted about 13 hours before I bought HBP… The last four chapters were written in two weeks, with the last two being especially rushed. I wrote the bulk of that at work, continuing at home until late at night. But I managed to do it! (And in fact, those last four chapters seemed to go easier than all the previous ones. I also like them better than the others… Odd.)

'Wolf's Fight' is pretty much the reason why I really like Tonks now. I wasn't very fond of her at first – she was okay, nothing more. But she developed into a sort of Sirius, except less moody. More like the person Sirius was when he was young. I only really realised how much I liked her while writing the Christmas chapter. I suddenly realised that this girl was _fun_ to be around – and to write! I was also starting to see where the Remus/Tonks shippers were coming from, and that the pairing wasn't as ridiculous as I used to think. A few weeks later, I was a true Remus/Tonks shipper – and HBP hasn't done anything to discourage that. Quite the contrary… Not that it stops me from shipping Remus/Sirius too. I'm weird like that.

Speaking of Remus/Sirius – the subtext! I frequently sat groaning behind my computer, going: oh God, the slash… Especially in the second-to-last chapter. Sirius was happy again, bouncing around the house _at the memories of what had happened last night_. Uh, yeah. I told myself that it was completely innocent. Myself replied that, girl, _you had them sleep in the same bed._ Yeah, sure, completely innocent. But for people who frequently keep their mind in the gutter… not really!

The parts I like the best: the last three chapters or so. A really twisted part of me particularly liked the big fight between Remus and Sirius about Snape. I'm firmly on Remus' side that Sirius was being a prat, but it gives an evil kind of satisfaction to just get all the frustrations out. Yeah, it's disgusting to shout that Snape deserved what he got, but it was _fun_. Diabolical fun! In the same vein: the Werewolf Capture Unit action scene was really exciting to write too, even though it meant having to kill off two small children.  
Another part I really like is the Christmas-shopping with Remus and Tonks. It's just a bit of light-hearted humour. The wizarding world is always fun to write, because it's like the normal, Muggle world, only over-the-top. If Muggles decorate their shops with Christmas lights, wizards have to 'better' that with literally putting Christmas lights _everywhere_ until everybody pretty much go blind. Add that with the slight goofiness of Remus and Tonks (it's like writing the Marauders, in a way!) and you get a scene that I just really like.  
Also, I'm pretty fond of the bit in the Department of Mysteries, when Remus notices Bellatrix. It looked cooler in my head than it turned out on paper (but that always happens when writing action sequences) – that's why films are sometimes preferable to books or stories: slow-motion is a bit hard to write – but I nevertheless like it. For an unscrupulous bad-guy (bad-girl?), Bellatrix is pretty cool.  
My favourite sentence in all the 130 occurs in the third-to-last chapter, when Remus and Sirius have just made up. Sirius is lying on his back in bed, staring at where he knows is the ceiling. And then: "he imagined a sky full of stars instead." That sentence. It's just… I don't know. I just really, really like it. Maybe it's to do with the fact that less than 24 hours later, Sirius was dead… Or it was the late hour at which I wrote that, or the music I was listening to, or the fact that the end was now coming dangerously close.

The bit that I hate the most is during the summer, when the Trio's still at Grimmauld Place, and Hermione is being an annoying little know-it-all when she starts channelling my Ethics teacher. Eurgh. That was completely unnecessary, and I honestly don't know why I kept it in.  
Another scene that I'm having serious doubts about is that one with Margaret Wilson, the woman who didn't believe in werewolves even though she was one herself. I don't know, it's just… an annoying bit.

A couple of weeks ago (around the time I was writing the big fight about Snape) I was thinking about this story, when I suddenly noticed a theme. Throughout the fic, people seemed to be having arguments about thinking before you act. This is of course especially true for Sirius, who has had a big problem with it, but it's also true for Romulus' decision to go and work at the Werewolf Capture Unit – at that moment, he had thought it a great idea, but he hadn't stopped to think about the consequences. I didn't write this intentionally, but looking back it seems to fit.

Recommended music – apart from the _Prisoner of Azkaban_ soundtrack (Window to the past!). I had made this whole list of music to listen to while writing the last chapters, and I ended up not listening to it while writing. Instead, I had _The Phantom of the Opera_ on constantly, especially 'The point of no return'. Apparently it was just so dramatic, with so much a feeling that this really _was_ 'the point of no return', that there was no way back, that it really fit my mood at that time. Strange.

**

* * *

Notes of thanks**

To everybody who read this, of course. To my reviewers especially – the knowledge that people really did like it kept me going! Special thanks to Linda/Pixiedragon, Amy/Authorbynight, Eizoku and Kelly Zwarts for reviewing me more than once (in fact, Linda and Amy have been reading my stories for years) and giving tips and suggestions. I should mention Linda and Amy especially: Linda for always giving me long reviews with quotes that she noticed, and her comments on it; Amy for the long character-analysing conversations we had, and for the fact that she pretty much made me realise that Tonks was a nice character. She encouraged me to write Tonks in more often and to have her bond with Remus and Sirius, so I started writing her more, which lead to me becoming a Remus/Tonks shipper (so it's all _your_ fault, Amy!).

The superspecial thanks to JK Rowling go without saying of course.

And now what?

The sequel of course! Oh c'mon, did you really think I'm going to let _that_ slip past? It's brilliant! I already got half of it planned, scenes written out – in fact, I can hardly wait to begin! So keep an eye on this site: August 31, there'll be more, more, more…


End file.
